


To the Ends of the Earth

by emptykitkat



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Abuse, Amnesia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon, Prince!Sebastian, Romance, Slavery, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt, dark!Hawke, includes insignificant ocs, includes short story canon, so much yearning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:54:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24633415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emptykitkat/pseuds/emptykitkat
Summary: Returning to Starkhaven as a prince, Sebastian is still haunted by the things that happened in Kirkwall. He is determined to help those that Hawke betrayed, starting with Fenris who was sold back to Danarius. But when Sebastian finds him, Fenris has no memory of his time in Kirkwall.
Relationships: Fenris/Sebastian Vael
Comments: 10
Kudos: 34





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to my on again off again project for over a year which is finally finished so I can begin posting it! This is based off of a kinkmeme prompt here: https://dragonage-kink.dreamwidth.org/81843.html?thread=310329267 but this time with like 10,000% more evil Hawke because I can’t justify any non-evil Hawke selling Fenris back to Danarius.

Returning to Starkhaven and overthrowing Goran had not been difficult. With the murder of the royal family, the citizens had never really accepted Goran as their prince, and Goran himself didn’t seem to enjoy the position either, in fact he quite happily handed the duty over to Sebastian. It was probably an attempt for mercy rather than a show of loyalty, but Sebastian accepted the offer and placed Goran on house arrest rather than having him truly imprisoned or executed. 

The nobles were split on Sebastian’s return. Some were glad that the city would finally have more firm guidance, especially after what happened in Kirkwall. Others didn’t want a strong prince and prefered Goran who was easily pushed around and manipulated. And some were skeptical of Sebastian for his past, they still believed him to be an irresponsible drunkard. However, Sebastian’s devotion to the chantry quickly proved them wrong. 

Kirkwall still haunted Sebastian. Everything that happened. The people he couldn’t save. Hawke… Sebastian should have left Hawke’s company sooner, he should have known it would end like this. Yet he couldn't simply march on Kirkwall, since Hawke had sided with the templars it was hopeless to appeal to the chantry. They would never know that Hawke was the one behind it all. That the man thrived off chaos and pain. That the only thing that drove him was power. 

At least Sebastian could keep the Champion’s influence out of Starkhaven. And hopefully he would someday reveal Hawke for the vile blood mage he was. Until then he could only try to right some of the wrongs he wasn't able to stop. 

Starkhaven’s strongest ally and trading partner had historically been Kirkwall, but after what happened Sebastian wanted to cut all ties with the city and it’s new viscount. The rest of the Free Marches were wary of Kirkwall too and especially its refugees. Having been in Kirkwall during the disaster, Sebastian was able to give insight and was willing to help other cities with the refugees. Ostwick, Wycome, and Ansburg were decent allies but replacing Kirkwall was a difficult task. 

This justified Sebastian to write to a noble in Tevinter. Sebastian didn’t like the idea of allying with the Imperium, but traditionally Starkhaven and Tevinter did allow trade since Starkhaven wasn't far from the southern border. The man he wrote to in Tevinter was some relative of a magister, a minor noble who wanted to rise above his station. He was a decent enough man, and he didn’t seem particularly interested in Starkhaven except as a way to show his influence. 

Sebastian would never outright admit that he had an ulterior motive, and he would never admit he wrote to that particular noble, knowing he would take the chance to display his alliance with a Prince, but when Sebastian was invited to the Lord’s party he was not displeased. 

Overall the party was uncomfortable, Sebastian wasn’t used to being around Imperial mages or slaves. The party was fairly inconsequential, no one too important to the imperium showed up, but it served its purpose. 

If there’s one thing a ruler needs, it’s intelligence. Sebastian liked to consider himself an honorable man, but sometimes employing spies was part of the work. Sometimes you had to sneak around a little to protect your city and his youth had taught him plenty about not being seen.

Sebastian wasn’t expecting any war with the Imperium, nor did he really expect the mages of the Starkhaven circle to contact the Imperium and ask their help for some sort of revolution. In fact, his reasons for caring so much about the Imperium had nothing to do with Starkhaven. 

* * *

***

***

“If you want him, he’s yours.” The words were cold and heartless and made Sebastian stop breathing.

Fenris looked over at Hawke, desperate and broken, not at all the warrior Sebastian had come to know. “Don’t do this Hawke, I know we are not friends but please… I can’t face him without you,” he pleaded, begging Hawke for his life.

Hawke cocked his head for a moment, giving Fenris an almost pitying look. But Sebastian knew that Hawke was not capable of such sympathies, and Hawke proved this by smiling. Smiling at the man he was about to betray. “It’s too late for that.”

Sebastian watched and looked at the others. Anders wasn’t watching, trying to stay disconnected from the exchange. Sebastian met his eyes for a moment, silently he begged to apostate to say something. He fought for justice didn't he? He must know that this was wrong. And as Hawke’s lover he was perhaps the only one likely to change his mind. But Anders looked away and said nothing, not willing to challenge the Champion.

Hawke was dangerous, but Sebastian tabled his bow anyway, ready to fight, he could not stand by and do nothing while the Champion of Kirkwall did this.

“Hawke, this is wrong. You can’t-“ he urged, but he didn't even finish his sentence when Hawke turned and punched him. Sebastian’s bow clattered to the ground and he fell, knocked down by the sudden impact. He remembered Hawke being a few steps ahead of him, how was he able to simply turn and be right in front of Sebastian?

Sebastian wasn't able to ask or wonder. Hawke kneeled down in front of him, gripping his jaw hard enough to bruise and Sebastian felt Hawke’s fingernails dig into his flesh, drawing blood from his cheek.

“I really didn’t expect much from one of the chantry’s little sheep, but your stupidity amazes me sometimes. I’d say we sew your dumb little mouth up but I can think of better ways to shut you up if you want to test me again. Got it?”

Sebastian stared helplessly into Hawke’s eyes. He was frowning but his eyes looked bored as if he was entirely devoid of emotion. As if Sebastian was just an annoying insect he was just waiting to kill. Sebastian swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, too scared to say anything. Then Hawke smiled and it was somehow even more terrifying. He kissed Sebastian on the forehead and got up to finish his deal with the Magister, leaving Sebastian on the floor, shaken beyond belief.

Never in all his years fighting demons and blood mages and brigands and monsters had Sebastian been so scared for his life. Never had he felt like an object just being kept around for someone’s amusement. Never had he seen Hawke look so ready to kill him.

That’s when he should have left. When he saw Fenris lower his head and follow Danarius as Hawke commanded. He should have grabbed his bow and shot the magister himself. But he didn’t. He didn't shoot Danarius and help Fenris and he didn't leave Hawke either.

_He was a coward…_

***

***

* * *

The memory kept Sebastian up at night. And in his nightmares Hawke didn't give him that warning, he took his knife and drove it into Sebastian’s stomach and Sebastian still didn’t move, he just let himself bleed out in the arms of the man who killed him. 

When the chantry exploded and Hawke convinced Anders to side with the templars and side with the madwoman Meredith, Sebastian almost stayed again. He almost did as Hawke said and stayed out of it. _“I keep you around to look pretty and shoot things Sebastian,”_ Hawke had told him, _“the only thing I want to hear you say is ‘yes Hawke.’”_

And he hesitated. For a moment he almost considered it, but he remembered everything Hawke did and all the people he hurt and Sebastian couldn’t take it. So he ran away. He told Hawke he would return and stop him, but in the moment he didn't try to stop Hawke or fight him; instead he ran. 

Sebastian often wondered why he was alive when his family had been killed by assassins and when Elthina had been killed with everyone else in the Kirkwall chantry. Why the maker kept bestowing his mercy on a man who spent years in indecisiveness. He still didn’t understand but at least he could try to save others as the maker saved him. Maybe then he would earn his salvation. 

* * *

“He’s on his way to Kirkwall to meet with Viscount Hawke. He’ll be traveling down the Imperial highway to Cumberland and then taking a ship to Kirkwall.” 

To reach Cumberland on the Imperial Highway one had to cross the Minanter River, an easy point to intercept from Starkhaven. Almost too easy. It very well might be a trap and Sebastian’s advisors were eager to tell him that, but he ignored them. This could very well be his only chance and he couldn’t risk not going. 

Sebastian left Starkhaven in boats with his men. Naturally he was told that he shouldn’t go because he was a prince and this could be dangerous, but Sebastian didn’t care. This was for him, not for Starkhaven.

He and his men were camped in the woods by the highway with scouts keeping an eye on the bridge. They were there for a few days and had seen merchants cross the bridge so many times that Sebastian almost didn’t believe when he was told they had arrived. He almost didn’t believe the carriages truly held the magister. 

Then he saw Fenris. 

He was seated in front of one of the central carriages, most likely the one Danarius was in, behind the driver. He looked different. It had been about a year since Sebastian had seen him but there was something unfamiliar Sebastian couldn’t quite place. His hair looked longer and was pulled back now, showing markings on his forehead that Sebastian didn’t usually see. His armor was different too, no doubt to match whatever fashion trend was currently popular in the Imperium. The way Fenris had talked about his time as a slave made him seem as much of a bodyguard as a trophy. 

Sebastian quietly called his men to retreat. They would wait until the magister was setting up camp. That would hopefully provide a clear shot that would kill Danarius before he could cast any spells. They were to try and only kill the magister, take as many prisoners as possible and not hurt any slaves. 

Fenris worried Sebastian. If he had gone back to being a bodyguard and was truly loyal to Danarius again, he may try to fight to the death. Especially if he didn’t know who was attacking them and for what purpose.

They were accompanied by several templars and a mage from the Starkhaven circle who specialized in countering magic, just in case they had to fight Danarius. The mage had also been instructed to cast a sleeping spell on as many enemies as possible, especially Fenris. They also had traps that were supposed to put people to sleep but Sebastian couldn’t help but worry about their effectiveness. He had no idea how Fenris’s markings would affect him against such traps, especially when he was with the man who created them. If they would somehow make him immune to these things, then the last thing Sebastian wanted to do was to hurt Fenris. 

They followed the Tevinters from a distance and waited as the sun set and the carriages slowed down to a stop and started to set up camp. Sebastian wasn’t wearing his normal armor so he wouldn’t give away his location as he waited with the scouts, watching the camp. He kept an arrow drawn and pointed at the door to the carriage. The moment Danarius stepped out Sebastian would put an arrow in his throat and others would follow in the ambush. 

Sebastian knew they were setting up tents but he didn’t watch. His breathing was slow and his eyes were fixed. His muscles would be sore from holding his position for so long but Sebastian couldn’t feel anything at that moment. Not until the door opened and he saw the face of the man who had haunted him since Kirkwall. That’s when he let go and everything was chaos. 

The ambush started and his men rushed forward, taking the Tevinters by surprise. Sebastian took shots where he could but it was hard to ensure he didn't hit any of his own men when the battle field was so chaotic. 

Eventually the fight died down and his men had started tying up the prisoners. Sebastian looked around the field and for a moment he couldn’t breath. 

Where was Fenris?

The elf wasn’t easily overlooked, so why couldn’t Sebastian see him? 

“Your highness,” he heard someone call out to him. Leland, the captain of Sebastian’s personal guard who was leading the escapade with him. Leland had been fiercely loyal to Sebastian’s parents, only surviving the attack that killed them by being in Kirkwall, monitoring Sebastian in the chantry. “I saw someone pull an elf with white hair into that tent during the battle.” 

Sebastian let out a breath of relief and nodded. “I’ll investigate.” 

Leland looked concerned but nodded and didn't say anything. He followed Sebastian to the tent, ready to defend the prince if the person inside was dangerous. The tent was by far the largest and most ornate tent that had been set up, no doubt the one for Danarius. 

Sebastian stopped in front of the tent, straightened his posture, and cleared his throat. “As prince Sebastian Vael of Starkhaven I will give you one chance to leave that tent and surrender as a prisoner.” 

He heard someone moving inside and felt Leland tense. The person who exited the tent was a red haired elf with a scared expression and could almost be mistaken for a servant if not for her finery. She looked so different with her robes and makeup that it took Sebastian a moment to recognize her. 

“Varania.” 

She looked up at him, taking a second to recognize him as well. “You... you're from Kirkwall.”

Sebastian nodded. “Fenris is in there, isn't he?” He motioned to the tent behind Varania. 

“Yes, I saw him get hit by a sleep spell so I pulled him out of the fight to protect him.” 

‘Protect,’ hearing her say that made Sebastian want to sneer. She sold her brother out and returned him to slavery and yet she thought she had the right to ‘protect’ him. 

Sebastian nodded to the guards and then turned back to Varania. “You will be taken to Starkhaven as a prisoner” he said and waited for her to be pulled out of the way so he could go into the tent and see Fenris. 

“Wait,” she said and Sebastian stopped to hear what she had to say. “Leto- he doesn’t remember his time in Kirkwall. Danarius wiped his memory.” 

Sebastian frowned but said nothing and let her be taken away. To call her a hypocrite was an understatement, how could anyone in good conscience watch as someone’s memory was taken from them. To watch their brother’s memory be taken. She wasn’t worth whatever unholy words Sebastian would like to call her. 

The tent was empty on the inside. Sebastian looked around before letting his eyes fall on Fenris. Up close he could see that he was thinner now and far from healthy. His armor was even spikier too, and the thought almost amused Sebastian, but it left much of his upper body uncovered and looked uncomfortable. Maybe when they returned to Starkhaven he could find someone to try and remake Fenris’s old armor. 

Sebastian kneeled in front of him and reached out a hand to shake Fenris awake, but he hesitated for a moment. “Fenris,” he said gently, seeing if he would respond to his name alone. He didn’t, so Sebastian lightly touched his shoulder. “Fenris,” he repeated a little louder this time. 

Fenris shot up like an arrow that time, looking around the tent and getting his bearings before he saw Sebastian and turned his gaze toward the ground. 

“Fenris,” Sebastian said again, relieved this time. “I-“ he began, wondering what he should say. “Do you recognize me?” He decided to ask. 

Fenris looked up at him for a moment before turning his gaze back to the ground in front of him. He shook his head. “No,” he said with a quiet obedience that broke Sebastian’s heart, “no I don’t Master.”

Hearing Fenris say that, calling him that, was like a punch to the gut. “Fenris, I’m not your master,” he replied almost a little too quickly. It made Fenris retreat on himself a bit more, hunching his shoulders and trying to be small. 

“I apologize. Since you killed Master Danarius I thought you would keep his slaves. Am I to be sold or,” his voice trembled slightly, “or killed.”

“Neither!” Sebastian gasped, again all too quickly and made Fenris apologize again. 

“M-my apologies…”

Sebastian wasn't sure how to react to any of this. Fenris had always been so confident and bold, nothing like the person he was talking to now. It was uncomfortable and he shifted anxiously, he wished he knew what to say in order to tell Fenris he was a free man, but his experiences with slaves were few and far in between. He had never done something like this before. 

“Fenris,” he tried to explain warmly and gently, “you have no more master. You are a free man.” 

Fenris uncurled his shoulders a bit and glanced at Sebastian’s smiling face for a moment. He didn’t say anything and Sebastian wished he knew what was going on in his mind. 

“You can return to Starkhaven with me, if you like,” Sebastian offered. With that Fenris nodded and Sebastian smiled. “Wonderful, let us return to my camp.” Sebastian stood up and held out a hand, when he first moved he saw Fenris flinch as if he thought Sebastian would strike him, but when he saw the hand was an offer he hesitantly took it and let Sebastian help him up. 

“Just give me one moment, please,” Sebastian said and quickly checked outside the tent. “Leland,” he called out to the captain. 

“Your highness, we have moved most of the prisoners back to camp, is there anything you need?” 

He nodded and lowered his voice and hoped Fenris didn’t hear. “As you know Fenris is an old friend of mine and I’d prefer it if an effort was made to keep him away from any prisoners and anything else that might remind him of his life as a slave.” 

Leland nodded. “I’ll inform the others.” 

“Thank you.” Sebastian smiled and went back into the tent. “Sorry about that Fenris, we can go now.” 

Fenris was eerily quiet during their walk back to camp. He had never been particularly talkative but back then his silence was comfortable and contemplative, now it felt conditioned and forced. He walked a few feet behind Sebastian which made Sebastian slow down, worrying that Fenris may be injured. But when he slowed down Fenris did too and Sebastian realized Fenris was unlikely to fall in step when he still believed himself to be a slave. 

Getting Fenris settled in the camp was far too easy, he was nothing if not agreeable and compliant. Sebastian set him up in a spare tent so he could rest. Sebastian also took some of his own spare clothes, even though he knew they would be too big, and brought them to Fenris. 

“They may not be a perfect fit,” he admitted, “but we’ll be boarding the ships back to Starkhaven in the morning and we won’t be doing any fighting so you’re free to wear something more comfortable if you want.” 

Fenris nodded and accepted the clothes. “Thank you, Master.” 

Biting back a frown because he didn’t want to look disapproving, Sebastian shook his head. “Fenris, I’m not your Master. You don’t have a master anymore.” 

“I apologize.” 

Sebastian sighed. “I will see you in the morning Fenris, if you need anything then feel free to ask.” With that Sebastian left. 

There hadn’t been any other slaves with Danarius, only the soldiers and Varania. It made sense, he was going to Kirkwall where slavery was illegal, and even if Hawke was his ally exposing slaves to any other lifestyle could be dangerous. At least that meant Sebastian could focus all his energy on Fenris, who would need plenty of help to adjust. 

It was past dark when he returned to his own tent and as tired as he was, Sebastian kneeled to say his prayers. He prayed for Fenris, that he may adjust to his new life and be safe and happy. 

He prayed that they would find a way to restore Fenris’s memories. And he prayed for patience and the maker to guide his choices, because he was so uncertain. 

* * *

Fenris was confused by his new master who didn’t want to be called master. He had told Fenris he was no longer a slave, that he no longer had a master. None of it made sense, if he wasn’t a slave then who was he? Where would he go? What would he do? He was a slave, it was as much a part of him as being an elf, it wasn’t something that changed. He wouldn’t be able to survive without a master. 

Luckily his new master provided for him, though his orders always ended with words like “please,” or “if you would like.” But why wouldn’t Fenris like following orders, it was who he was. 

He did wonder what new purpose would await him in this ‘Starkhaven’ his master kept talking about. Fenris had never heard of the place, but there was much Fenris didn’t know. There were many others who seemed to be under the command of his master and Fenris wondered if they were slaves as well. They dressed in armor and called him “your highness” and “my prince,” so his master must have been royalty. Perhaps when they returned to his master’s home Fenris would be trained to be one of these soldiers. 

Maybe, but it felt like he was being treated differently than the others. His master dressed him in soft fabrics and gave him his own room and his own meals. It was nothing like how Master Danarius had treated his guards and as nice as his new master was Fenris just couldn’t imagine there being enough room on the ships for each person to have their own room. Maybe he was planning on keeping Fenris like a trophy, to show his defeat over a magister. Or maybe he intended on showing off Fenris’s markings. 

Fenris considered that his new master might want to keep him as a bed warmer, but he had yet to be invited into his master’s room. His master could be waiting until they returned to his home, or maybe he didn’t find Fenris pleasing just yet. It would explain why he allowed Fenris to be washed, even though he couldn’t have a proper bath on the boat, and to eat as much as he wanted. 

They had only been traveling a few days when his master invited him to the deck of the boat to watch as they sailed into Starkhaven. The city was beautiful and so unlike Tevinter. There were large walls as elegant as they were intimidating. And beyond those walls were large stone buildings, decorated with marble and gold. The mountains and river that framed the city made it feel like a paradise that was hidden from the world. 

“Welcome to Starkhaven, Fenris,” his master said, smiling. “The largest city in the Free Marches and my personal favorite,” he chuckled. 

“It’s wonderful,” Fenris awed for a moment and then froze. Was he supposed to reply? His master had not asked him a question yet he spoke anyway. Would this be when his master started punishing him? 

Fenris saw his master’s hand rise and instructively looked away, flinching, awaiting a strike that didn’t come. When he looked back at his master he had just been running a hand through his hair, but now was giving Fenris a sad look. 

“Fenris,” He asked gently, “do you remember ever being in the Free Marches?” 

“No,” Fenris replied. “I was told by Master Danarius I spent some years in Kirkwall, assisting the Champion at my master’s request until I let myself get injured in a fight and lost my memories so he had to take me back to Tevinter.” 

His master nodded and stared towards the city thoughtfully and Fenris wondered if he had said something wrong. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did way too much research on canon for this fic, and fun fact: if you go to the Starkhaven page of the dragon age wiki it shows a picture from the Knight’s Errant comic, which makes the city look more like a fortress, but every other description in canon describes it as very wealthy and glorious, with fountains and kingly estates, and a castle made out of marble and gold. Obviously I went for the descriptions because I like beautiful Starkhaven more. Also if you want a reference for Fenris as a slave, I based him off of “slave Fenris” from heroes of dragon age. I'll be updating this every Friday until it's done, so stay tuned! I'll also be trying my best to respond to comments (I'm usually not very good at it), but my writing tumblr is https://emptykitkat.tumblr.com/ (currently not much going on, but I plan on posting drabbles and headcanons along with fic updates) so that's where I'll be until next week


	2. Chapter 2

“Um… Serah? Are you… awake?”

Fenris shot up, lowering his head and waiting to be struck for oversleeping. 

“Oh, um, good morning serah.” 

The unfamiliar voice was jarring enough to make Fenris look up, to see himself in a strange room with a strange, young elven woman looking at him. He tensed and it took him a moment to recognize his surroundings. Right, this was the room his master had given him. They had arrived late at night and Fenris had followed his master through the darkness and into the castle, where they waited for a short time while his room was set up, then Fenris was allowed in to sleep. He cursed himself, he had been so good at waking up before his new master, and now, on his first day in his master’s home, he was going to disappoint him. 

A cautious look around the room showed another woman, older and plumper, sweeping the floor. Fenris gripped his blanket in his hands, looking down at himself. He still wore his clothes from the day before, the shirt and trousers that his master had given him, and he waited for his orders. 

“Um, I brought breakfast,” the young woman offered, showing him the tray that sat on a table next to his bed. “My name is Delilah, and that’s Ariah. The Prince sent us to help you settle in.” 

“And to get your room looking more acceptable, since we didn’t have much time to do it last night,” Ariah added, turning to Fenris a little too fast and making him flinch, though she didn’t seem to notice. “We’ll also be taking your measurements so we can get you suited in some better fitting clothes and setting up a bath because the maker knows you’ll need one.” 

Fenris ducked his head, mumbling an apology. He felt so open, so vulnerable. All these new people and this new place, he was so unused to it and had no idea what was expected of him. He just wished his master was here to pet his head and tell him what to do, to tell him exactly what was wrong and how to fix it. Fenris could do that, he was so very good at following orders, but he had no idea how to play this guessing game they put him in. 

Delilah squeaked, “oh no, we didn’t mean to offend, you’re fine really!” she shot a glance over her shoulder at Ariah who nodded. 

“Of course, serah, it’s not at all your fault. The Prince tries his best you know, but he barely took enough servants to take care of the food while he was gone, so we couldn’t have expected you to take a bath out there, which is why you get one now,” she corrected herself.

‘Servants’ they called themselves. Fenris wondered if that was simply what they called slaves here, or if they were hirelings. Master Danarius had said that a hireling was a poor man’s slave, and they would never be trusted as their loyalty lay only with money and not the servitude of their master. Fenris shuddered at the idea that his new master might have left him alone with such hirelings, and that he even trusted them enough to bath him. 

Fenris wasn’t unused to being tended to by other slaves, but despite his best efforts to convince himself otherwise, he was never entirely comfortable with it. The idea that they tended to him as they would tend to their master was too unnerving, but Master Danarius had called Fenris his ‘prized pet’ and so when Master Danarius wanted him bathed or wanted his armor polished, he would call his other slaves to do it. 

Bathing was something else that Fenris had a hard time enjoying. Being poked and prodded and scrubbed and dunked in water, it was uncomfortable. But his master had wanted him to be presentable and pleasing to the eye, and Fenris’s body and markings were so high maintenance that Master Danarius told him that Fenris was useless to anyone who didn’t know how to care for him the way his master did. Fenris certainly hoped that his new master knew what Master Danarius did, because he was so very scared of being useless.

He picked at the breakfast he had been brought while the two women went about cleaning the room. Sweeping the floor so they could lay out the rolled up carpet that stood in the corner, and dusting every nook and cranny. 

At one point Ariah opened a door, to reveal a bathroom that looked as though it was meant for a king. There was a marble tub with it’s very own pump and drain, as well as a fireplace to heat the water. Ariah pumped the water into buckets and Delilah started the fire, hooking a bucket above it so it could be heated before being put into the tub with the drain plugged. 

When the bath was filled with hot water, bath salts, and oils, Ariah turned to him. “We have some towels laid out serah. Now if you don’t mind, we can take your measurements now before you bathe and bring something up for you to wear afterwards.” 

Fenris was a little shocked that they weren’t staying to bathe him, but he didn’t mind too much as he stripped down to his smalls so he could be measured. He tried to ignore the way they stared at his markings, keeping his head down while Delilah held the measuring tape up to him and called out numbers to Ariah who wrote them down. 

They seemed to be literate, or at least they knew numbers. Fenris wasn’t sure if that definitely made them hirelings, since slaves such as himself were not permitted to read or write, or maybe they had basic knowledge to complete their duties. Fenris had never really spoken to other slaves in Master Danarius’ house, he didn’t know what they were allowed to know. 

When they were done they left, leaving Fenris alone in a strange room in a strange place. The water was warm, almost too warm as it hadn’t been long since it was boiling above a fire and the tub kept the heat in very well. He shut the door behind him as he took off his small clothes and climbed into the tub. 

It was a different kind of discomfort, being alone in a warm bath. He felt as though he didn’t deserve it, that he was partaking in some sort of luxury that wasn’t meant for him. But if his master had requested it… 

He started by taking some sweet smelling soap onto a washcloth and scrubbing himself until his skin felt raw and sensitive, hoping to scrub away every imperfection and impurity that his master might see. 

There were still a shameful amount of scars and bruises he couldn’t scrub away. From his old armor and his punishments from Master Danarius, and from the time he couldn’t remember due to his own incompetence. 

Fenris wanted it all gone. He wanted to get rid of all of it, to show his new master that he was worthy, that he wasn’t used and broken, that he was a new man now, ready to leave his past behind and focus on his master and only his master. 

He dunked his head under the water and scrubbed his hair as well. Trying to get out all the dirt and sweat that would stick to it and make him stink. 

There was noise in his room, that made Fenris sit up straighter and reach for a blade that wasn’t there. 

“Serah,” the high voice called out, “it’s Delilah, I’m just stopping by with your clothes… I’ll be going now.” 

The door closed behind her and Fenris felt his ears twitch involuntarily as he listened for her footsteps getting more and more distant. He relaxed, just a little when she was gone. Fenris still wasn’t entirely sure what ‘serah’ meant. He believed it was a title, and not a new name that his new master had chosen for him. Though, even if the title meant ‘slave’ Fenris wasn’t sure why it was necessary, slaves were never referred to by titles. 

He finished scrubbing himself and carefully exited the tub, careful to drip as little water on the floor as possible. When he drained the tub, he found the bucket that one of the women must have set aside, and although the water had gone a bit cold, used it to rinse himself off. 

There were many soaps and oils in the room, and Fenris wondered if the prince expected him to use them. He had only used one soap in his bath, and worried that it might have been the wrong one. He studied the oils, unable to read the labels. There was one with a flower on the label that smelled like the oils Master Danarius would have him covered in after baths when Fenris was to be shown off in his master’s parlour or taken to his master’s room. 

Desperate to please, Fenris dried himself quickly with one of the towels left for him and poured a small bit into his hand. It was hard for him to put it on himself, usually Master Danarius had other slaves do it, but Fenris tried his best to cover his skin, including his back and his backside, silently wondering if his new master would take him the way Master Danarius did. 

When he was done and the oil had dried into his skin, making his body less glossy and slippery, Fenris used a towel to cover himself, and cautiously exited the bathroom. No one was in his bedroom, and there was an outfit folded on the bed for him. There was a new pair of small clothes, as well a pair of dark trousers, a white tunic, and a dark green sash. Fenris put it all on carefully, wondering if his new master had chosen it out for him. 

Once dressed, Fenris took a moment to admire the clothing in the mirror, only to realize what a mess his hair had become and he rushed back into the bathroom to take a brush to it. He was determined to be perfect for his master when he came to see him. Of course he had no idea when that might be, so he would have to sit and wait for as long as it took. 


	3. Chapter 3

It had been late when they arrived back at the castle and Sebastian had been rather exhausted by the time he finally made it to bed. The next morning it was back to business as usual,Sebastian had already spent too much time away on his venture to get Fenris, and that had only taken a few days. He skipped breakfast and went straight to his study, only to find Seneschal Granger was there waiting for him. 

“Your highness,” he greeted, bowing formally, “I am glad you have returned safely and successfully, but I must know what you intend on doing with the prisoners. Specifically the mage.” 

“The prisoners will be sentenced in time, I would like them to be interrogated first so we may learn more about Danarius’s magic. The mage… I will need some time. Put her in the circle dungeon where she won’t be able to use her powers to escape.”

“And you are sure this will not cause any issue with Tevinter? Or Kirkwall since that is where the magister was heading?” 

Sebastian frowned. “In Tevinter everything is a competition, they won’t mourn for a fallen magister, they’ll pick his corpse and someone new will pick up the position without a second thought. And as for Kirkwall...” 

If Hawke took issue with Sebastian killing his ally then let him march. Kirkwall was still in ruins and Starkhaven was known for its strength across the Free Marches. 

“There will be no consequence with Kirkwall, trust me,” Sebastian assured him. 

“And what about the elf?” 

“Fenris,” Sebastian corrected. “And I’m having him set up in the room next to mine.” 

The room next to Sebastian’s, of course, meant the room adjoined to Sebastian’s. The solar, a nice room that was private and that was sometimes used as a bedroom for family, sometimes used as an extension of the prince's chambers, or sometimes used as a simply a gathering area away from the rest of the palace. 

It was a room meant for family… 

But Sebastian didn’t have any family. Not anymore. Ironically enough, Fenris was probably the closest thing he had left to family, and Fenris was still a stranger. 

Granger raised his eyebrows, placing a hand on his chin while he carefully regarded Sebastian as though he had suggested building a stairway of clouds and sliding down a rainbow. “The one next to yours? People will talk, your highness.”

“People will talk if I eat chicken for dinner instead of fish,” Sebastian snapped, tired and frustrated. “Fenris, he is my friend. And Danarius used magic to erase his memory, which means he has less than a year's worth of memories. He will probably have a difficult time adjusting.” 

Granger nodded, backing off the subject. Clearly he wasn’t sold on Sebastian’s argument, but didn’t want to challenge the prince. “As you say your highness. Is there anything he will need?” 

“I would like to talk to an armor crafter as well as a tailor to have some things made for him. As well as the First Enchanter from the Circle to see what she knows about memory magic.” 

“I’ll arrange the meetings,” Granger said and took his leave. 

Sebastian sighed. He wished he could do more for Fenris but it was so difficult. He had decided not to discuss Kirkwall with Fenris. There was a chance that discussing those events could help him remember but if it didn’t then Sebastian didn’t want Fenris to think that he was only helping him because of who he was back then. It didn’t matter, even if Fenris never reclaimed his memories, Sebastian would be dedicated to helping him. Fenris was his friend no matter what. 

And there were other things he could do that might help Fenris remember. He could try to recreate Fenris’s old armor and maybe give him his old haircut, if that’s what Fenris wanted anyway, but Sebastian doubted that Fenris would be willing to express his opinions at the moment. 

Maybe he could help Fenris learn to read. He had mentioned it back in Kirkwall when Sebastian had asked about him reading the chant of light. Sebastian had offered to teach him but they’re lessons had barely begun when Hawke gave him back to Danarius. Maybe they could read something Varric had written together and see if it helped at all. 

As for Varania, she was a blood mage and a slaver, by law she should be executed. But she was also Fenris’s sister and their best bet at retrieving his memories. Sebastian would prefer it if Fenris was the one to sentence her, but he wasn’t in the right state of mind to understand how she betrayed him. The rest were slavers and mercenaries, who Sebastian would have to either imprison, banish, or execute, depending on far their loyalties went. 

There was some work that had piled up while Sebastian was away that he needed to tend to before he could go check in on Fenris. He rushed through it, most of it was trivial like minor disputes between nobles, and the rest could be put off until later. It wasn’t as if the numbers on his accounts were going anywhere. 

Some maids had been scheduled to check in on Fenris and made sure he was dressed and had a bath, and to deliver him breakfast, but part of Sebastian still worried that he may wake Fenris up or something. 

He stood outside the door for a moment, a hand raised but not knocking. It was nerve wracking to see his friend like this, but with a shaking breath Sebastian reached forward to knock on the door. A moment later Fenris opened it, clean and wearing clothes that fit better, it made Sebastian smile a little, but it faded quickly. 

When Fenris saw it was Sebastian he bowed deeply. “Good morning master,” he greeted without looking up or making eye contact. 

Sebastian felt his face drop and he sighed. “Fenris, I’m not your master, remember? You shouldn’t call me that.” 

“I’m sorry, m- my prince.” 

Fenris flinched slightly when he stuttered, as if he expected to be hit for it. Sebastian wished Fenris would just call him by his name, he had told it to him many times while they were traveling back to Starkhaven. But if he wasn't ready then Sebastian didn't want to overwhelm him. 

“Would you like me to show you around the grounds Fenris?” Sebastian offered and Fenris nodded and followed him into the hallway quietly. “The door to my room is right here,” Sebastian said, nodding to the door next to Fenris’s, “you can come to me if you ever need anything.” 

They walked around the castle some more and Sebastian showed Fenris his study where he could be found if he wasn't in his room. Sebastian also showed him the servants quarters and kitchens and introduced him to some of the servants with the hope Fenris would become comfortable asking for things. There were some other places they visited like the library and they went to the dining hall, though Sebastian rarely used it, it was much too big for one person and it reminded him too much of meals he used to eat with his family. They went to the courtyard next, and walked through the gardens before arriving at the training ground. 

“You are trained with a two-handed sword, right?” Fenris nodded and it made Sebastian smile. “Well we have some training weapons you can practice with if you’d like, and if you’d like your own weapon I can have one smithed for you.” 

That seemed to pique Fenris’s interest because he looked around more than he allowed himself in the rest of the castle. “Am I to join your guard, my prince?” Fenris asked. 

“You can if you want. Do you enjoy swordplay?” 

Fenris paused, looking at Sebastian cautiously but avoiding eye contact. Sebastian smiled and nodded, trying to tell Fenris that it’s all right, he can say if he enjoys something or not without consequence. Fenris shuddered slightly and nodded back. “I do, my prince. I was a bodyguard to my former master.” 

The last part dashed Sebastian’s dreams slightly. Fenris had started to say he enjoyed something, but then so quickly he fell back on saying it was because it was what he was told to do. Sebastian took a deep breath and reminded himself to have patience, Fenris would not go back to his old self overnight, and it would be alright. 

“I am more of an archer myself,” Sebastian said, trying to keep a semblance of a conversation. “But we have swords and such and there are practice targets we can set up if you ever wish to practice. Perhaps we can come here together.” 

“As you wish, my prince.” 

Sebastian sighed and tried not to look sad because he didn't want Fenris to think he was displeased. “Well that’s about it. Shall we head back?” 

They walked back to their rooms in relative silence. When they arrived at Fenris’s door Sebastian decided to bring up something simple, Fenris’ hair. 

“Fenris do you like your hair long and pulled back? Or would you prefer it cut?” 

“This is how my former master preferred I wear it,” he responded, avoiding his own opinion. 

Sebastian had a feeling he wasn’t going to get very far like this so he just made the decision himself. 

“Well you no longer have a master so maybe it’s time for a change, and if you don't like it then you can just grow it back out again, I’ll fetch a servant.”

It might have been wrong to push Fenris towards the answer Sebastian wanted, but patience was such a difficult virtue. And besides, Sebastian just hoped that having his old haircut would help him remember their time in Kirkwall. 

He returned to Fenris’s door with a servant in tow who held a tray with a comb, cutting scissors, and water. He knocked and Fenris opened his door and bowed as he had before and let the two in. 

“Alright ser, I’ll need to wet and comb your hair before cutting it if you don't mind sitting down.” She pulled out a desk chair and Fenris sat in it stiffly. Sebastian stayed and sat down, just in case something happened and watched the maid dip the comb in water and run it through Fenris’s hair, combing it straight and even so she could cut it. 

She didn't say anything when she reached for the scissors, assuming Fenris had done this before. She took a segment of hair on his right side and reached forward to cut it. But when Fenris saw the scissors coming towards his face he flinched so violently it made the maid gasp and knock his forehead on the scissors blade. 

“Fenris!” Sebastian exclaimed, running over to examine him. It was just a small cut that barely broke the skin, but Sebastian still fumbled around until he found a bandage to cover it. 

“I’m sorry,” Fenris apologized, as Sebastian sat in front of him, taping a bandage over his cut. “I am sorry, it is all my fault-“

“It’s ok, Fenris,” Sebastian assured him. “You were just startled. Would you prefer it if we didn’t cut your hair?” 

Fenris said nothing and shook his head but Sebastian could see he was still unsettled.

“What if I did it instead?” He offered and the maid looked at him curiously. That made Fenris look up at him and hesitate for a moment before nodding. “Alright,” Sebastian smiled reassuringly and turned to the maid, “I’ll return the tools afterwards so you are dismissed for now, thank you.”

When she was gone Sebastian leaned over Fenris, holding the scissors carefully. Fenris shuddered slightly and Sebastian put a hand on his shoulder to calm him. “Just relax, it will be fine,” he assured and took a piece of hair to begin cutting. 

* * *

***

***

Sebastian had noticed Fenris’s hair getting longer over time, but he hadn’t thought about much besides how amusing it looked when Fenris scrunched his nose, and angrily blew a piece of hair out of his face. He really should have expected the elf to act on his frustration but it was surprising all the same.

He had come over to talk with Fenris as he normally did and when he knocked Fenris had called out to him from the main room upstairs. It wasn’t unusual so Sebastian let himself in and followed Fenris’s voice only to gasp when he saw his friend crouched over a broadsword propped against the wall.

Sebastian dropped everything and ran over, grabbing Fenris by the shoulders and pulling him away from the sword.

“Fenris, What’s going on? What are you doing?”

Fenrisjust frowned and shrugged him off. “I am trying to cut my hair,” he said as if it was obvious. “Though it is much more troublesome than I would like.”

“Well of course! A broadsword isn't sharp enough for hair cutting,” Sebastian explained and got up, “here, let me run back to the chantry and grab some scissors.”

When Sebastian returned he was a bit winded from running all the way to the chantry and all the back. But he confidently handed the scissors and a comb he grabbed as well to Fenris who, thankfully, hadn’t kept trying to cut his hair with the sword.

Fenris nodded in thanks and reached up to grab a piece of hair and without thinking Sebastian reached forward to grab his wrist.

“What now?” Fenris asked skeptically.

(“You aren’t going to do that in front of a mirror?”)

“I wasn't planning on it. It seemed like a waste of time.”

Sebastian’s eyes widened and he felt the urge to intervene. “Then let me do it,” he offered.

Fenris raised an eyebrow, but he let Sebastian take the scissors and sit him down in a chair. He frowned when he felt Sebastian running a comb through his hair.

“I just need it out of my face,” Fenris protested. “Why does this matter?”

“Because this is how one cuts hair. If you don't comb it it will come out uneven.”

“Why does it matter?”

“An uneven haircut makes a bad first impression.”

“So?”

“So...” Sebastian trailed off a bit, trying to find the right words as he continued working. “You have such nice hair Fenris, a bad haircut wouldn’t do you justice.”

Fenris snorted. “Yes, I’ve been told how nice my hair is many times. Well mainly Danarius was told, praised for how well the color looked on me and how despite the unusualness it still felt natural.”

“Sorry-“

“Don’t be,” Fenris sighed, “I am not bothered by it. You are no magister and it is only hair.”

Sebastian smiled, and started cutting. “This isn’t your natural color though, is it?”

“No. It came with the brands and though I may not remember anything before then, I do remember the ends of my hair being a different color before Danarius had it cut off. It was dark.”

“Like your eyebrows and eyelashes. Those don't usually keep growing, so I suspect if you cut them off now they’d grow back white.”

The idea made Fenris chuckle lightly. “Then I’ll have to be careful, I don't doubt I would look unsettling with white eyebrows.” The mental image made Sebastian laugh with him.

Sebastian finished soon after that, declaring “done.”

Fenris stood up and bobbed his head from side to side, testing to see if his bangs needed to be cut shorter. When he decided it was fine he turned to Sebastian. “Thank you, I appreciate your willingness to help.”

“It’s no problem, in the chantry we have to cut our own hair, and I like to think that I’ve gotten a lot better at it over the years. At least now I’m fairly confident that I won’t cut my own ear off.”

***

***

* * *

Fenris sat in silence as Sebastian finished cutting the last pieces.

“All done,” he announced, pulling back and placing the tools on the tray. “How does it feel?”

Fenris raised his head slightly and felt as his hair moved with him. His movements were almost identical to when Sebastian had cut his hair in Kirkwall. “It feels… light.” 

“Do you like it?” 

Fenris nodded. “So long as it pleases you.” 

Well, he didn’t seem to remember anything right now and was still falling back on his training as a slave. It had all been so familiar to Sebastian, so nostalgic, but Fenris felt nothing. It was disheartening but change didn’t happen overnight, and Sebastian was no stranger to feeling disheartened. He could endure it. 

“You can still style it however you want,” Sebastian encouraged, “the top is probably long enough to pull back if it gets in your eyes or you could slick it back with hair gel or you could leave it as is.”

“Would you like me to style it, my prince?” 

Sebastian held his breath for a moment before sighing and shaking his head. “No, you aren’t required to, but if it gets in your way then you may choose yourself.” 

Fenris seemed uncomfortable with the idea that he might have to decide himself, but if Sebastian didn’t force Fenris to choose then he’d never grow, no matter how hard it was to turn away from the large green eyes begging him for careful instruction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My knowledge of medieval castle structure is not extensive, but I did a little research to keep this from being wildly inaccurate. And sorry for being a day late in updating but who even knows what day it is anymore, because I sure don't. Time isn't real.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so you know how I said this was already written? well it is, but I like to proofread and edit chapters before posting them. I've been focusing a lot on other stuff and accidentally would spend all day doing that stuff. So what I'm saying is oppsy daisy I didn't post last week so I'll post both chapters now

The Starhaven circle had burned down in 9:31 Dragon, the same year that Sebastian’s family was murdered and Goran took the throne. The chaos surrounding the assassination of the royal family caused the surviving mages to get sidelined and then with Goran being more of a puppet than a prince, nothing was really done about it until Sebastian returned. 

Many mages and templars had died in the fire, and many fled the city when it happened. There was still a Templar presence in Starkhaven, but not enough mages to justify having a circle so they were mostly sent to the gallows. But Sebastian wouldn’t have sent his worst enemy to gallows, even without Meredith he didn’t trust the place or the city it resided in. 

The half dozen or so mages that were living in Starkhaven without the circle were indecently outnumbered by templars and being kept in a bunker under one of the city walls. The place was dirty and dark and looked like a prison, and it might as well have been. The only reason there were mages allowed in the city without the circle was because of the nobles who hated mages, but still desired services such as healing and frivolous enchantments. The mages were basically slaves and even though Sebastian wasn’t very trusting of magic, he had seen too much to ignore it. 

The mages and templars arriving from Kirkwall made the circle an immediate issue. Before Sebastian had even reclaimed his throne things were not looking good. It was all he could do to prevent conditions from getting hazardous and tensions from rising as people began to panic

The circle had to be reinstituted to keep people from suffering, rather ironically since Anders was always preaching about how the circle brought nothing but suffering. But Anders was wrong. He had to be wrong. Sebastian would prove it. 

Anders had said that no one cared about the mages, but Sebastian cared. Maybe he hadn’t before, but he cared now. Mages were the children of the maker, they deserved better. Even when the people turned from the maker, he was merciful and did not destroy them, he gave them a second chance. Sebastian had gotten far too many second chances, he had to remember to give them as well. Besides, he knew that not all mages were bad. Merrill had always been nice, even though she was a blood mage, and Anders had been a healer for the poor and helpless before he had destroyed the chantry. Sebastian knew magic better than most princes. 

And relocating the mages was something he could do, maybe even something he could do well. 

Back when he was young, before his grandfather died and he became a drunk, when he was still a boy, Sebastian remembered sneaking around the city with his brothers. They went on adventures, explored every nook and cranny. Then his brothers got older and they needed to learn about leading Starkhaven. That’s when Sebastian started sneaking off on his own and he and his brothers stopped talking as much. 

So if there was one thing that Sebastian knew, it was places to hide in Starkhaven, and he knew the perfect spot for the mages. 

The tower was on the far side of the city and had been built during the blight. Not the second blight which was fought in Starkhaven, but the fourth, if Sebastian remembered correctly. During that blight many refugees fled to the city from Wycome and Antiva with the help of the grey wardens and Starhaven received many wardens riding griffins, and that’s why they built the tower. A place for the wardens and griffins to land and stay when they were in the city. And, if Sebastian remembered correctly, a place for the griffin of the one non warden to have one, and that person had been a Vael too, which greatly influenced the building of the tower. 

With the extinction of griffins, it had been centuries since the tower had seen any real use. It was now a watchtower but it was far too big and so much of it went unused that it wasn’t incredibly practical. Plus Starkhaven already had enough watchtowers. 

It took some renovations, but the tower had rooms where the Wardens once stayed that could easily be used to house the mages and templars. And the large open spaces for the griffins would make great classrooms and libraries. 

Sebastian moved the progress quickly and the mages had avoided any real conflict. Forming a proper circle had made the Starkhaven mages quite happy with their new prince and Sebastian had been getting along quite well with their first enchanter. She was an older woman named Olyvia with dark gray hair pulled back into a large, neat bun. When she arrived for their meeting she was smiling proudly.

“Your highness, it’s an honor. What did you need to see me for?” she asked. 

“Have a seat First Enchantress. First tell me of the circle, is everything going alright?”

She nodded and gave him a quick, formal update on the status of things. Currently they were trying to rebuild the library. 

Sebastian nodded. “I am glad things are going well, though I need to ask you a favor.” 

“What is it?” 

“If you haven’t heard, I recently went on an expedition to intercept a Tevinter magister to rescue a friend of mine from Kirkwall who had been enslaved by him. Everything went fine and the Magister is now dead, but we have a problem. This magister erased my friend’s memories. I was wondering if you knew of any way to help recover lost memories.” 

Olyvia sighed. “Well if he was a magister he might have used blood magic, and undoing that could be near impossible.” 

“I thought as much, but there is more. My friend, he has markings made from lyrium that were burned into his skin.” 

“Lyrium?” she gasped and Sebastian nodded. 

“I don’t know how it was done and back in Kirkwall my friend said he didn’t know either. He said the ritual caused him to lose all memories prior but now I believe his memories might have been stolen by the magister like they were this time. I do not know if it is the markings that aid in the erasure of his memories, but given his experience as a slave I would like to keep him from being studied or examined like an experiment.” 

“I understand,” the First Enchantress replied, “we are still busy with all the new arrivals from Kirkwall. And since we lost so much in the fire and haven’t been rebuilding our library until now, I doubt I will find much on the subject here. But if you would like I can write to other circles and see what they know.” 

“That would be wonderful, thank you very much.” 

She got up and curtsied as she left the meeting. “You’re welcome, your highness. I will see you when I have more answers.”

Sebastian hadn’t been expecting much from the meeting, but a part of himself couldn’t help the ridiculous hope that all the answers would be ready and layed in front of him. A stupid hope but one he couldn’t help having. 

He next met with a smith who he was commissioning to remake Fenris’s armor. The meeting was fairly short because Sebastian had already sketched out everything he remembered about the armor and the smith was a capable man, the same one who made Sebastian’s armor. 

Unfortunately these were both ‘personal’ meetings, which meant Sebastian still had plenty of work ahead of him.

Walking around the castle was a slow, aching torture. Everything reminded Sebastian of his family. How he never got to reconcile with them before they died. And how he was the only one left. He felt unworthy of his life, like the surviving Vael should have been someone better. Back in Kirkwall Sebastian would give himself panic attacks just thinking about reclaiming the throne, but he always entertained the idea because he thought that he must. When he did decide to return to Starkhaven it was a decision made out of anger. He wanted to stop Hawke and find Fenris and being a prince seemed the only way to do that. 

Now Sebastian had to live with being a prince. He learned so much from his time in the chantry but he was still so unprepared. He was never groomed to run the city like his brothers were because his parents didn’t want him trying to usurp the throne. Now he was so suddenly thrust into a life where his every decision could mean the lives of countless people. Sometimes the pressure was so bad it would make Sebastian physically ill and he’d return to his room to vomit and then carry out the rest of the day like nothing had happened. Royalty didn’t get to take time off, their kingdom never slept. 

It didn’t help that everything he saw reminded him of his family. Sebastian avoided the dining hall like it was the plague. All he remembered was the awkward silence that fell over the room when he walked in, waiting impatiently for the prince to start his dinner so Sebastian could take his food back up to his room, and hearing his family’s voices pick up the second he was gone. It was stupid tradition that the prince had to be the first one to eat dinner, and Sebastian hated it. He had hated every tradition back then. And he’d hated his family too. Now, he’d do anything to see them once more. 

Or at least have his family see him and realize he wasn’t a total failure, that he wasn’t the same screw up they remember. The child who’s own mother and brothers hadn’t spoken to him in years. 

But things were different now, weren’t they? 

Being in Starkhaven didn’t help him think so. When everything reminded Sebastian of his old life, it was difficult to remember how much work he put into changing. But what was the point? The people here still talked of his youth like it was yesterday. People still didn’t trust him and nobles tried to win him over by pushing beautiful women at him and all his advisors seemed determined to marry him off. 

Everyday was a battle. 

And now it was even harder. 

Sebastian would never call Fenris a burden, he was Sebastian’s friend, but having the elf around had certainly made him stressed. Of course he was less stressed than knowing Fenris was safe in the palace than before when all he could do was worry about where Fenris was and if he was being hurt. But when Sebastian had planned to rescue Fenris he had assumed that Fenris would be the same and could help him with building the army and training their men. He had never expected Fenris to have lost his memory and his sense of self. 

Sebastian did his best to keep moving. To keep his head up, at least in front of others. Though when he was alone he felt so broken. Having hope felt so useless. But to give up would be to give up Fenris, the one person Sebastian would risk everything for. The reason he kept on fighting. 

The one person who might still fight for him. 

Though not now, not while he still didn’t remember and thought himself to be a slave. But if Sebastian could help, if he could return Fenris’s memories, then maybe he’d have someone he could trust. 

That was at least a reason to keep going. 

* * *

The dungeon under the circle was dark, but dry and not uncomfortable. One of templars Sebastian had followed held a lantern to guide them through the darkness towards the dim lanterns that hung outside of occupied cells, and Sebastian squinted through the shadows, trying to adjust his sight. He wondered if the templars had the same problem, or if they were used to it, or maybe they had a trick that made it easier to see in the dark. Sebastian distracted himself with those thoughts while he was led down the hall. 

Built into the stone wall there were thick iron bars and a heavy door covered in glyphs Sebastian couldn’t understand, but he suspected they were there to neutralize magic. There was enough room in the cell to stand and move around, with a clean camber pot and bed. Inside he saw her, wearing prison clothes and not looking at him. 

“Varania.” 

Then she looked up with an unreadable expression. Sebastian felt his chest tighten and felt his emotions confuse themselves. He was so angry at her because she betrayed her own brother and she did this to Fenris, but she was also Fenris’ sister and was sitting helplessly in a prison cell. 

“I can’t undo Danarius’s spell and retrieve Leto’s memories,” she said, straight to the point. “He never taught me because he thought I might take advantage and mess with his mind.” Varania looked sad now, tearful even, and Sebastian had to remember that she was the one who brought about this situation. 

Sebastian frowned and shook his head. “I suppose that’s it then. Unless there is any other information you have regarding Fenris or Danarius.” 

Varania shook her head. 

Sighing, Sebastian turned. “Very well then. I guess you will stay here until further notice. The First Enchanter and Knight Commander here at the circle might have a word with you, but that’s all.” 


	5. Chapter 5

Fenris rushed to answer the door when he heard someone knocking. He wasn’t used to having his own room or having people knock on his door so he wasn’t sure how quickly he would be expected to open his door. So far no one had told him he was doing anything wrong and Fenris wanted to keep it that way. He just got this new master who treated him so well, and Fenris wanted to be the best slave he could for the kind man. 

It was his master at the door, Fenris bowed and waited until he was spoken to. 

“Fenris,” his master greeted with a smile. “How are you today?” 

“Very well, thank you, your highness.” 

“Are you busy? I have something for you but I wouldn’t want to interrupt.”

To be honest Fenris hadn’t done much when he wasn’t with his master. Wandering the grounds by himself made him nervous that he might go somewhere or do something wrong. And if he was out too long then he might not be around when his master came to visit. 

“You could never interrupt, my prince. Your time is valuable and I am glad you wish to spend it on me.” 

Hearing that made his master’s face twitch with sadness. Fenris wasn’t sure what he was doing wrong that kept making his master sad, but he didn’t want to speak out of turn to ask. 

“Well, I have something for you, a gift. Do you mind?” 

“Not at all.” Fenris obediently moved out of the way of the door and let his master in, as well as some servants who brought in packages. The packages were left on the floor and the Prince dismissed them kindly. 

“Let’s start with this one,” the Prince invited him to open the first package, a box. Fenris opened it slowly while the Prince watched. Inside was a breastplate sitting on top of some neatly folded leather armor. Fenris pulled it out of the box and examined it, while his master brought over an armor stand to help put it up. 

The breastplate was rather straightforward, simple dark silver metal armor with ridges on the bottom. There was a black leather tunic as well with a dark gold trim, and matching leggings with a specially designed foothold. There were also gauntlets that matched the metal of breastplate, some armor that went over his shoulders and arms that had black feathers attached to them, and a belt. 

His master worked with him to set up the armor on the stand then looked at it and beamed. 

“What do you think?” 

It looked like a nice set of armor to Fenris. It was well made and wasn’t too heavy, nor would it impede on his markings, and offered good protection and coverage. 

“It is nice,” Fenris offered quietly. His master seemed pleased with it, so he should be too, shouldn’t he? Fenris was still so unfamiliar with his new master’s unusual mannerisms that he was never sure if he was doing something wrong. 

Regardless, his master smiled sweetly. “I figured you could use it if you wanted to retake swordplay.” 

Fenris nodded, wondering if this was his master’s way of saying he wanted Fenris to become his guard. His master reached for another package and offered it to Fenris who opened it. Inside was a similar set of armor, almost exactly the same except for the colors. 

This one was with white metal that had a gold trim. The tunic was a lighter grey with some brown and silver accents. Once again his master set up a second armor stand and set the armor on it. 

“This set is a replacement, just in case,” he told Fenris. “But I made it match the colors of my armor, just for more ceremonial occasions or something.” his master bobbed his head slightly and went to rub his neck, seeming slightly embarrassed by the gift. Did that mean he didn’t want Fenris to wear it? Or was this his way of telling Fenris he did want him to wear it. Fenris couldn’t tell, but he would try his hardest to find out so he could better follow his master’s orders, even if they were so different from the orders he was used to receiving. 

Next, his master handed him the biggest package. “This is mostly just some new clothes that should hopefully suit you a bit better,” he explained as Fenris opened the box. “I didn’t know what you’d like to wear casually so there’s some of everything in there, but if you don’t like a certain piece you don’t need to wear it and you can tell me what pieces you do like so we can better fit your wardrobe around that.” 

“This is a most gracious gift, me prince,” Fenris spoke, “I am undeserving of your generosity.” 

His master shook his head and smiled. “Everyone deserves something to wear, Fenris. And I wanted to give you options,” he flushed slightly and pulled out one last, smaller package. “Here, this is the last one.” 

Fenris nodded and opened it. It was… another outfit. Why didn’t his master put it with the others? It seemed very ornate, with a dark shirt made from shiny, silken cloth, and a coat made to match it with gold trims, silver accents, and fine embroidery, as well as a matching pair of trousers. It looked like something made for a noble, not a slave like Fenris. 

He looked to his master for guidance, to know why it wasn’t with the other outfits and why Fenris was being gifted with something so extravagant. 

“I’ll admit,” his master blushed, “I might have gone overboard on this, but I thought you deserved something especially fancy. Plus…” he started to trail off, looking away and gathering himself before turning back to Fenris. “I was hoping you would wear it to accompany me to the chantry for the service today and I wanted you to have something that would help you feel like you fit in with me in public. You don’t need to go of course, and if you don’t like the outfit you don’t need to wear it, it is a bit much, isn’t it? But I just wanted to give you the option.” 

Fenris watched his master curiously, the way his words sped up and he flushed as if he was preparing himself for some sort of rejection. Not that Fenris would ever reject him of course, despite his odd mannerisms, he was still Fenris’s master and how could Fenris say no to him. It was his duty to follow his master wherever he may lead.

“I would be honored to accompany you, my prince.” Fenris bowed to his master. 

“Perfect,” he smiled, “then I’ll give you some time to get changed and such. Shall we meet outside our rooms on the hour? That should give us enough time to make our way to the chantry and take our seats for the service.” 

Fenris nodded, it was all rather exciting to him. The gifts and the invitation to a chantry service? He wondered what he had done to earn his master’s favor like this. Back in Tevinter Fenris would sometimes accompany Master Danarius to services, but he was never invited like a guest, he was taken along as a slave, to protect Master Danarius like he always did. 

As soon as his master was gone, Fenris laid out the outfit and stared at it for a moment. His master had gotten him an outfit to match his own! This meant he was officially a part of the household! 

Shaking the excitement from his mind, Fenris began putting away the other clothes he had received. Normal things like shirts and trousers, some night clothes and underclothes as well. Jackets and doublets as well which would no doubt make Fenris look like a real noble. He felt undeserving of such outfits, as if wearing such things would betray his station, but they were a gift from his master so he must keep them. 

When that was over he tried on the outfit for the chantry service. The colors and patterns… It looked like something that belonged to his master. Which meant that his master must have wanted them to match, wanted the people to see that Fenris was with him.

He wasn’t ashamed of Fenris, in fact it was the opposite, he was proud!

Fenris had been shown off plenty by Master Danarius, who was always proud of Fenris’s success and his markings, but this was different. The outfit wasn’t designed to show off his markings and in fact it covered most of them, and his new master hadn’t seemed to mention the markings much. 

It didn’t make much sense to Fenris. The markings were what made him valuable and marked him as a prize from defeating a magister, so why would his new master not care about them? Perhaps he thought they were ugly, but he didn’t seem keen on hiding them either. 

Fenris felt his heart leap at the thought that maybe his master didn’t care and instead wanted to show Fenris off simply because he was pleased with Fenris and how he had been acting. It was a silly thought and Fenris knew that he shouldn’t get too overconfident lest he stop doing whatever it was that made his master pleased, but to have his master’s favor and be validated on how hard he was trying to adapt, it sounded like a dream. 

Whatever his master’s reason was for the invitation, he was determined to earn this reward. He would stop at nothing to please his master and he would prove himself to be what his master needed. 

When he heard the bell mark the hour, Fenris stopped admiring the clothes in the mirror and stepped outside to meet with his master. 

He was waiting and smiling kindly, like he always was. “How does it feel?” he asked, surveying Fenris in the new outfit. 

“It is perfect. I cannot express how thankful I am.” 

“I’m just glad you like it,” his master replied happily and held out his arm as if to escort Fenris. 

Fenris paused at the gesture, looking between his master’s face and outstretched arm. It was unnecessary and strange for a prince to do such things for a slave, but the last thing Fenris wanted to be was ungrateful, so he took his master’s arm and was escorted to a carriage outside the castle which would take them to the chantry. 

“Fenris, have you been to chantry services before?” His master asked politely. 

Fenris nodded. “Only to guard my old master, Danarius. Never to participate.” 

“Hmmm,” his master hummed. “But those were Imperial chantry services, right? You may not know, since you lived in Tevinter, but in the south our chantry services are different. We follow the Divine on the Sunburst throne in Orlais and our chant is a bit different.” 

Fenris nodded along. He had never heard of a second chantry or divine in Orlais. There was much Fenris didn’t know, he understood that, though he wondered why his new master was trying to teach him. 

“Here we believe that magic should serve man and not rule over him. Our mages live in the circle and do not rule like the magisters of Tevinter.” 

That made sense. It explained why Fenris hadn’t seen his new master perform any magic, it was because he wasn’t a mage. 

“And our divine is a woman and our chantry is run by women. I’ll admit that I’ve never been to an imperial chantry, so I don’t know how the service will be different, but those are all the major differences in doctrine you’ll need to know.” 

Fenris didn’t entirely understand why there were differences if both chantrys claimed to follow the same Maker, but it wasn’t his duty to think on such things. Instead he should appreciate the invitation and try his best to make sure his master didn’t regret taking Fenris along with him. 

When they arrived and stood outside the chantry, Fenris could feel his master grow tense. He stopped and gazed at the chantry, breath quickening slightly and lips pressed into a firm line while he blinked rapidly. Fenris stood next to him and waited, wondering if this was normal. Fenris might not be the best at recognizing emotions and such, but his master looked as though he was being stabbed in the gut when he stared at the chantry in front of them. Was it a display of reverence? Or something else…? 

“Alright, let’s go.” His master’s movements were rigid and stiff, as if he was forcing himself into the building. But despite his obvious discomfort, he looked at Fenris and smiled, telling him that this would be pleasant. 

For the most part, it was. There was a special booth for his master since he was the prince, and he had Fenris sit right next to him, like royalty. The sisters wore interesting garments that were very different from the ones in Tevinter, and they spoke in the common tongue, prayed and chanted in it as well. In Tevinter to speak the chant in anything but Tevene was blasphemy. 

When they sang, Fenris could hear his master’s voice next to him, singing along. He had a nice voice that made Fenris feel warm and relaxed. He couldn’t imagine a kind voice like that yelling or being angry or harsh. 

During the whole service, the prince was no less stiff than he was in front of the building. He fidgeted and shifted in his seat often, making Fenris concerned that he wasn’t happy. But he kept smiling and following the service, reciting prayers and verses. From what Fenris could tell no one else looked quite so uncomfortable, which was only more worrying. 

When it was over, some sisters and nobles came by to greet his master, but he showed them away, sweating nervously. He held his arm out for Fenris to take and quickly escaped the chantry back into the carriage. 

Outside the building he closed his eyes and breathed deeply before reopening them and staring at the building pensively as they were taken back to the castle. 

There was no doubt that there was something strange, something that made his master nervous about being in a chantry despite his obvious devotion to the organization. Was it Fenris’s presence? Was he afraid Fenris would embarrass him? 

That must have been it. Fenris could think of no other reason for his master’s unease and hopefully Fenris did well and his master would no longer need to worry. 

Fenris hated seeing his kind master so uncomfortable. 

The trip back to the castle was silent, until they stepped out of the carriage and headed back into the building. 

“Fenris,” his master began, now with more even breaths and an expression that didn’t look so pained. “Could we talk?” He asked. “Not now, I think I need some… alone time. But later? Perhaps after dinner we could meet in my room?” 

Was this it? Fenris wondered. Was his master finally asking Fenris into his room to… serve him? Was that why he was uncomfortable during the service? Was he aroused? 

Fenris agreed, of course, and watched his master retreat into his room. 

He felt strangely about it. He was excited to please his master of course, but he was also nervous about what it would be like. Would his master find him unsatisfactory? Was this where it all ended and Fenris was finally cast out? 

No, his master was kind and gentle and patient. Though he had never expressed interest in using Fenris like this before, it felt a little strange that he would start the night after a chantry service. It did seem a little out of character, but Fenris remembered that he was just a slave and was no expert on his master’s personality. 

He was a slave and his purpose was to please. And he would do so willingly. 


	6. Chapter 6

There was so much Sebastian wanted to talk to Fenris about and he figured it was best done in private. If Fenris knew anything about Danarius’s magic then that would help a lot. But Sebastian was also planning to ask Fenris about reading lessons and if Fenris would like those. 

His room was just a convenient place to have a discussion. Bringing Fenris to his study seemed too formal, he wanted Fenris to know they were friends and could be casual with one another. That they were equals. 

Fenris walked into the room with determination. Sebastian wasn’t sure what it was about but he motioned for Fenris to take a seat. Sebastian turned and shut the door behind him, if the closed door made Fenris uncomfortable then Sebastian would open it but he thought Fenris might appreciate the privacy. 

Sebastian stretched, relaxing now that he was back in his room and he took off his crown and placed it on a table near the door. For this discussion, he didn’t want to be a prince. He just wanted to be Sebastian. 

“I wanted t-“

Sebastian froze. He had turned back to face Fenris who was sitting on his bed, in just his small clothes. The rest of his clothes were folded into a neat pile on a bedside table but that was hardly Sebastian’s biggest concern. 

“Fenris?” He gasped, not quite sure what in Thedas was going on or how he should react. 

Fenris blushed and looked away. “I apologize. Would you have rather undressed me yourself? I can put it all back on…” 

“Wait, what? Why do you need to undress at all?” Fenris has never been undressed in front of Sebastian before but he did it so quickly that maybe he normally didn’t wear clothes around. Maybe it had to do with his markings? Sebastian didn’t understand at all. 

“Oh, you meant for this to just be a quick meeting then. I am sorry I won’t make presumptions again. Would you prefer I redressed now or after?” 

_After?_

_After what-_

_**Oh.** _

_Oh no._

_No no no no no no no-_

“No!” Sebastian insisted with wide eyes. “That- that is not at all why I called you here!” 

Fenris hunched over, looking at the floor, his bangs falling in front of his face. “I am sorry,” he apologized again, his voice was so small and meek that it made Sebastian’s heart ache. Fenris sounded like he was on the verge of tears. “Did I do something wrong?” 

“No, not at all,” Sebastian assured him. He walked over to Fenris and sat near him on the edge of the bed, close enough to try and help Fenris see he wasn’t upset, but far enough away that hopefully Fenris would see Sebastian did not expect anything from him. 

“Do I… not please you?” His voice was shaky and rough. 

Sebastian took a deep breath, unsure of the proper response. “No-“ he started, then shook his head, trying to find decent words. “I- that’s not the problem. There is no problem- is what I mean. Everything is fine. Really.” 

Fenris looked away, shoulders still drawn up around his neck and all his muscles tight. “Then why don’t you want me?” He asked in a fragile voice. 

There were no words in Sebastian’s mind. Nothing he could say to Fenris to tell him what he was thinking. Was this how things would always be? How long would it take for Fenris to unlearn these behaviors? Was it like this the first time Fenris escaped? 

When Sebastian said nothing Fenris started fidgeting and looked over at Sebastian with wet eyes. Then he pulled himself off the bed and onto the ground, kneeling in front of Sebastian, hands on the prince’s knees. 

“I promise I’ll be good. Master Danarius always told me how good I was. Please master,” he begged, “I want to please you.” 

Sebastian felt the blood rush to his face and groin as Fenris looked up at him with those large, pleading eyes. He looked like he was a trained dog, begging for a treat. Sebastian couldn’t take it. He looked away and saw Fenris deflate in his peripheral vision. 

His hands climbed up Sebastian’s thighs and he rested his head on Sebastian’s lap. “I just want to be useful to you,” he sniffled, a tear starting to roll down his cheek. “I just want to do my duty…” 

It was so wrong. None of this should make Fenris happy. He didn’t love Sebastian, not really. He loved having a master because that’s what he was told to love. Fenris didn’t know what he was doing, but how do you explain that to someone? How do you tell someone you’re equals when he so firmly believes himself to be lesser? Every time Sebastian tried to say so, Fenris seemed to think of it as a pity or a reward he needed to deserve. Somehow when Sebastian said that they are equal it perpetuates Fenris’s idea that they weren’t because only his “kind master” would have such mercy. 

“No.” 

The sound was so sudden and firm it almost startled Sebastian himself. He looked back at Fenris who wilted under his gaze. There had to be a better way than this but if Fenris didn’t listen to him than he had to be more strict. 

“Listen to me,” he said, “you are not an object or a toy or an animal or a slave. You do not owe me anything. I spent years as a chaste brother in the chantry and I will not be propositioned.” 

Fenris slowly slid away from him, looking down and hunched over once again. Just like how Sebastian found him that first day in the tent. 

“Yes, mast- yes my prince.” When he almost slipped up and said master he flinched a little before correcting himself. 

Sebastian knew he messed up. 

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let’s talk more tomorrow. I need to go to bed.” 

Fenris nodded and stood up silently, never picking up his gaze. He took his clothes from the bedside table and quickly pulled them back on before exiting, closing the door softly behind him. 

When he was finally alone, Sebastian collapsed back onto his bed. He had screwed that up. It seemed impossible to win with Fenris and it almost made Sebastian want to give up. It had been the fog warriors who gave Fenris his first taste of freedom, but maybe it was Danarius leaving him that made Fenris listen to them, and the guilt of killing them was what made Fenris leave Danarius and run away. But Sebastian couldn’t replicate any of that. He was just a new master for Fenris to follow. No matter how hard he tried to show Fenris freedom his mind was determined to give Sebastian the credit and want to follow him even more. 

It didn’t make sense. 

* * *

His master had been inviting Fenris to meals since he arrived. He would knock on Fenris’s door and ask him to join. It was usually just the two of them and they would eat in a small, private dining hall, and his master would sit across from him and smile warmly, making polite conversation as they ate. Fenris had started getting used to it and would prepare himself for mealtime, it was a nice way to spend time with his master after all. 

Most of the things his master did Fenris didn’t understand, like inviting slaves to dinner. Not that Fenris minded at all, he felt blessed for the good food and his master’s favor. His life was now dedicated to this man and Fenris relished every moment he spent by his master’s side. 

That morning, he didn’t knock and Fenris didn’t go to breakfast. He half expected his master to bust into his room and punish him for his disobedience, but his master had never said he was required to attend breakfast. And he didn’t come to the door at all. Fernis wished he did. Being ignored was so much worse than being punished. 

He had to remember that he was just a slave, replaceable and inconsequential. That’s what his master was trying to communicate with his silence. It made Fenris’s chest ache and he wished for his master’s guidance. This was how it felt to be a slave without a master, a man with no purpose. It hurt more than he expected and Fenris ended up crying into his pillow until his eyes were red and puffy and his throat was dry. 

This was why he needed someone to guide him, on his own Fenris was lost. Overly emotional, depressed, and a mess. This was how he was doomed to live without his master. 

If only he hadn’t gone and messed it all up. 

He had been presumptuous and acted without direction. He should have known better. Now he just hoped that his master would take pity and come back rather than leaving Fenris to wither away on his own. 

Fenris didn’t move from his place in his bed all day. He didn’t get up to eat or drink and he wouldn’t even allow himself to sleep. Just lay down and stare at the door, waiting for his master to come while he wallowed in his own guilt. 

It was dark out when he finally heard the knock. Jumped out of bed and rushed to the door, almost collapsing as he got up because he had been in bed all day and hadn’t eaten. But he straightened himself and shook off any lightheadedness as he opened the door. 

His master… 

He looked a bit tired and sad, though he often looked that way when he was talking to Fenris. Fenris bowed and waited to be spoken to, no longer going to take the risk of doing anything without his master’s orders. He couldn’t bear to be left alone again. 

“Fenris, I- I would like to talk. May I come in for a moment?” 

Fenris nodded and immediately moved to let his master into the room. His master took a seat near the fireplace and Fenris took a seat next to him. 

“I wanted to apologize,” his master began, though Fenris didn’t understand why. His master apologized often even though it was always Fenris’s fault. Maybe it was a foreign custom, or maybe his master felt responsible for the mistakes of his slaves. Either way he knew when his master apologized it was because he did something wrong. 

“Last night was just very… unexpected.” Unexpected and wrong, Fenris decided internally, and all his own fault. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just wanted you to understand that things are different now. It’s not that I don’t like you or want you to be around, but that type of relationship should be special and between two people who love each other dearly. No one should ever just use their partner for pleasure. Do you understand?” Fenris nodded; it was like how he had tried to use his master because he foolishly thought his master would be like Danarius even though he has already shown himself to be so different. 

His master smiled grimly and sighed. “I’m sorry I took so long to say this but I had trouble coming up with the right words. Now I hope we can go back to being friends.” 

_‘Friends’…_ his master called Fenris his friend often and Fenris was never sure what to make of the word. He didn’t use it the way Danarius did, because Danarius referred to other magisters and nobles as his friends. People who were his rivals and his equals. 

But maybe it was another foreign thing, that his master called his slaves friends. Not that it bothered Fenris, it just confused him. Despite that he nodded. “I am sorry for my own actions and would do anything to earn back your favor,” he bowed his head and told his master. 

His master looked shocked for a moment, then smiled and shook his head. “You never lost my favor Fenris, I will always continue to respect and support you so long as you’ll have me.” 

His words made Fenris shiver. It sounded like something he should be saying to swear his loyalty, not something a master should be telling his slave. 

“Will I see you at breakfast tomorrow?” His master asked him. 

“So long as you’ll have me,” Fenris responded, reciting his master’s own words. And it made his master smile as he stood up. 

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night Fenris.” 

“Good night your highness.” 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m having an issue with ao3 right now where adding a new chapter doesn't make the fanfic appear at the top of updated works, and that sucks. I had uploaded and reuploaded this chapter a few times to try and get it to work but the best I could do was having it appear after all the other fanfics posted/updated on the same day. So idk if anyone gets notifications or something for this, but if you got a bunch that disappeared I'm sorry but I had to repost this after midnight so it would appear at the top for at least a little bit.

After being gifted with armor and being told he was not to be a bed warmer, Fenris decided to return to training. He felt a bit uncomfortable, being out on his own, seeing other people, and being looked at, obviously because of his markings. Sometimes, he thought of his old master and… wished he didn’t have the markings. 

It wasn’t a good way of thinking, Fenris knew that. Even though Master Danarius was dead now, questioning him could lead to Fenris questioning his new master, the Prince. Besides, the marks gave him power beyond what was natural even though they came with a price as well. 

They never felt quite right. Sometimes his skin would feel itchy and rough around them, irritated and too tight. Sometimes they would ache, and sometimes his skin would feel too hot. Training helped some, as did other things, like when Fenris was alone and rubbed his muscles. The fancy oils and soaps the prince gave him were also nice and made Fenris’s skin tingle pleasantly when he used them to bathe. 

But Fenris was a warrior, not a sickly elder, and using things like soaps and massages were a luxury he couldn’t let himself get too used to or else he wouldn’t be able to endure the pain in battle when the time came to defend the Prince. 

So he took up his sword and trained. 

“Your skill is incredible.” 

Fenris jumped when he heard the accented words from behind him. Normally he was great at sensing when someone was approaching, it was necessary as a bodyguard to be aware of any potential threat to his master, but somehow he had been snuck up on. Out of instinct Fenris turned to the voice, brandishing his sword, only to see Prince Vael. 

He gasped, immediately dropping the weapon and bowing to the prince. “I am so sorry, your highness. I didn’t mean to, I just didn’t hear you approach and I…” 

“No, no it’s fine,” Prince Vael assured him. “It’s my fault for catching you off guard. I just saw you training and couldn’t help but watch, you’re amazing you know.” 

Fenris stood up from his bow, blushing slightly and avoiding eye contact as he usually did so he would not insult the prince’s rank. The compliment caught him off guard just as the prince had moments ago. He was not used to having his skills commented on since he was expected to be able to use them at any time to defend his master. 

“Th- thank you,” Fenris managed shyly. 

“I heard you come by here often, but this is the first time I’ve seen it for myself,” the prince observed happily. 

Fenris looked down instinctively. “I am sorry. If you would rather I didn’t spend so much time here-”

“No!” The prince cut in quickly. “You may spend your time anyway you like! And if you want to be here, then feel free.” 

“I…” Fenris avoided looking at the prince and blushed. “It’s my markings…” he tried to explain himself, but wasn’t quite sure what to say. The prince hadn’t brought up the markings before and Fenris wasn’t sure if he knew entirely what they were and how he would react. 

He watched Fenris with curiosity and concern. “What about them?” He asked gently.

“They… were a gift from my old master, Danarius. They are made from lyrium and one of a kind. They grant me strength and certain powers, which I used to protect him.” 

After explaining, Fenris took a cautious glance at the prince, waiting to see any disappointment or disgust. But there was none, he didn’t even look surprised. 

“Do they affect you in any other way?” The prince asked him. “Do they hurt?” 

Fenris wasn’t sure if he should answer truthfully. Would the prince think he was weak if he said yes? Would he punish Fenris for lying if he said no? In the end, Fenris nodded. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “They cause my body to be very high maintenance, which is why I train so often.” 

“Does training help?”

Fenris nodded again. “I am not sure why it is, Master Danarius never explained it to me.” 

The prince looked around and started walking. For a moment Fenris thought he said something wrong and had made the prince abandon him, but he didn’t leave; the prince picked up a training sword and returned to him. 

“I could use some training too,” the prince said with a smile, changing the tone of the conversation and removing his over coat. “Why don’t we spar?” 

“Are you sure?” Fenris asked because the prince couldn’t be serious. He was a weapon trained in combat and the prince was… a prince! He had no business sparring with slaves. And what if Fenris hurt him? What if Fenris won? Would it be alright for him to win?

The prince laughed. “Of course! I’m more of an archer, but that doesn’t mean I never learned to wield a sword. And perhaps you could help me improve?” 

Fenris gulped, but nodded, taking his own stance. Prince Vael moved first, lunging but Fenris dodged easily and swung his own sword, only for the prince to parry. The prince had fine form, and since Fenris had studied many styles of fighting, both to improve his own and identify enemies, he could tell that the Prince fought very formally. He fought like a noble, like he was dueling or fencing, not a technique used to kill. He was in shape and must have had a good teacher, but he was definitely out of practice, and Fenris could tell by his movements, balance, and the way he held the sword, that the Prince was used to fighting with a smaller weapon. 

It would be easy for Fenris to predict his movements and disarm him, but he waited it out, until he found a good opportunity to pretend like he was overwhelmed and let the prince disarm him instead. 

Prince Vael looked at Fenris’s sword clattering to the ground and frowned. Did Fenris mess up? Did he disappoint him? 

“Fenris,” the prince turned to him with a forced smile and chuckle, “I highly doubt a trained warrior such as yourself would fall to someone who hasn’t yielded a sword in over a decade.” he walked over to grab the sword and hand it back to Fenris. “I don’t care about winning, so you can really show me what you’ve got.” 

Nodding, Fenris took the sword and stood up. They both took their positions again and this time, with the prince’s blessing, Fenris moved first. In fast, dynamic movements Fenris had knocked the sword from the prince’s hand, only seconds after they had begun. 

He looked at his sword, then at Fenris, stunned. Fenris worried if he made another mistake, but this time the prince started to smile, genuinely this time. 

“That was fantastic!” He beamed. “I’m sure I wasn’t much of an opponent, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone fight like you.” 

Fenris looked away blushing, not sure how to respond to the praise. “It’s the markings, really… I’m not that impressive on my own…”

“Nonsense! Your abilities are your own and you should be proud of them. It must have taken tons of training to create a unique style such as your own and I’m sure you would be just as remarkable without those markings.” 

It was almost too much, but Fenris enjoyed the praise, even if he wasn’t entirely sure he deserved it. He understood why the prince wouldn’t want to give credit to Fenris’s old master, but without the markings Danarius gave him, Fenris would be useless. 

“Would you like to go again?” the prince asked. “I’m curious how many times I can be disarmed before dinner.” 

They continued on for a while, until they heard the six o’clock bell that signalled dinner. Fenris had one every match they had, but if anything losing made the prince happier, which Fenris didn’t understand. They talked too, mostly Fenris giving the prince tips and the prince apologizing for not knowing much about swordplay. He was good at dodging and parrying, knocking away blows, but he took too long delivering them and left himself open. 

“I’ve done plenty of fighting, once with a high dragon,” the prince had explained cheerfully, “but I was more of a rogue, fighting from a distance. I haven’t used anything bigger than a dagger since my lessons in youth.” 

Fenris wasn’t sure what a prince was doing fighting anything, especially a high dragon, but as curious as he was, it wasn’t his place to ask. 

It was a different kind of workout than what Fenris had been doing since he arrived, but it was a nice change of pace. It was far more engaging to fight against a person than swinging a sword at an unmoving target. 

He walked to dinner with the prince, though they were both a bit sweaty and dirty, the prince said it wasn’t too important. There wouldn’t be anyone else eating with them, so they could enjoy the food while it was hot and wash up afterwards. 

The food was already laid out on the table when they arrived and it looked as delicious as always. A thick, probably squash based soup, an assortment of cooked vegetables, roasted chicken, and… fish. It wasn’t the first time they had fish, it was a common dish in Starkhaven, but Fenris wasn’t a fan at all. They didn’t eat fish often, but when they did there was always a second meat that Fenris did enjoy and only small amounts of fish for the prince to eat, as if the prince knew Fenris didn’t like fish before he even tried it. 

They were both starving, but the prince tried his best not to shove food into his face and Fenris followed suit. He wasn’t used to eating in front of his master, since he had always eaten with the other slaves, and when first invited to eat with Prince Vael, Fenris was clueless as to how to act. Fortunately the prince didn’t care much about bad manners and usually just laughed off mistakes. He did tell Fenris what was and wasn’t ok in formal meals, in case there ever was one, but he assured Fenris this wasn’t anything formal. Fenris still tried his hardest to remember his manners at all meals, even if the prince claimed it wasn’t necessary. 

“I wanted to bring up what we were talking about, before sparring,” the prince mentioned after they had finished their food. “Danarius and your markings.”

“What do you need to know?” 

Prince Vael took a deep breath as he approached the topic with obvious hesitation. “I’d just… like to talk, if you’re comfortable with that. But not tonight, it’s been a long day. Maybe tomorrow? Here, after lunch?” 

“Of course,” Fenris agreed. Putting off until the next day was a relief, Fenris knew it would lead to a long discussion and he was glad to have some time to think and gather his words. 

There was a calm silence after that where Fenris watched a candle burn and flicker slightly in the soft breeze from the window. Just the idea of talking about his past made him feel unreasonably tired and the prince seemed to feel the same way, yawning and blinking tired eyes slowly. 

It wasn’t long before they both got up, said goodnight and such, and left for bed. Fenris collapsed into the pillows and blankets on his soft mattress, before he remembered he still had to wash up and change into his nightclothes. Or at least he should do those things, but he didn’t. He thought about it and told himself to get up, but another part of his mind told him that such things could wait until morning, so instead he curled up, wrapping blankets tightly around himself, and drifted into sleep. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wifi had problems so this is late, oof. Anyway I originally had the parenthesis to signal flashback/dreams/ect. but I got annoyed by it, especially because of one chapter that will become obvious when I post it. So I changed the formatting for this chapter and updated previous ones. Now there’s asterisks, if it's confusing/not obvious/whatever then I can change it again.

*** 

*** 

_Where am I? What’s going on?_

_Blinking, seeing light, still dark. A cave? Sore muscles. Something hard and cold underneath me. Looking down. Markings? What are they? Why do they feel so strange? There’s something red too, blood?_

“Ah, you finally awaken, my pet.”

_A voice, familiar but unknown. A man. Grey hair, long beard._

He looked around, flexing his muscles experimentally and moving in odd, jerky motions, remembering how to use his body, trying to crawl away and curl in on himself defensively. The man who stood next to him was wearing robes and had blood on his hands, was it the same blood? Whose blood was it?

He opened his mouth but only a strangled noise came out at first and he cleared his throat, remembering how to speak. “I- what-” he managed, barely able to form words.

The man reached over and shushed him gently, laying a hand on his shoulder that made him jump, not remembering how it felt to be touched.

“Do not worry, my pet,” the man spoke calmly. “My name is Danarius, and I am your master. I will take good care of you. Let me explain, your name is Fenris, my little wolf. You were defending a friend of mine when you were injured very badly. You may have lost your memories but I’m just glad I could save you.”

Fenris… yes that sounded right. That was his name. And the bearded man was Danarius, his master who saved him from death. Fenris could trust his master, after all he just said he would take good care of him.

Nervously, Fenris spoke again to Danarius, holding up his marked, bloody hands. “What is wrong with me?”

Danarius tutted him softly. “I know you don’t remember, my pet, but you must relearn how to act. Do not speak unless spoken too, and when you do speak, you address me as ‘Master.’ Normally you are not allowed to ask questions, but I shall allow this one.” Danarius- Master, smiled and took Fenris’s hands in his own. “These cuts are from the accident, if it wasn’t for me and my magic, you’d be dead now, but there were still some cuts left that I couldn’t heal. And these markings are your power. You are my guard and you use these to defend me. They are made from lyrium and are one of a kind, my biggest accomplishment.”

Fenris nodded. That all sounded reasonable, not that he really understood what was and wasn’t reasonable. He remembered a few things, basic speech, movement, an instinct to survive, blood, pain. It wasn’t much, but Fenris knew he had life and he knew there was a world out there, though he knew nothing else about either. But his master knew. His master saved him. He would guide Fenris and take care of him and teach him.

Hearing something from his master made Fenris remember certain things he knew. ‘Magic,’ yes, he knew what magic was. It was… like a ball of light or fire or healing. He couldn’t control it, but his master could, at least it sounded like he said he could. Which must mean his master was powerful, to control something Fenris couldn’t. No wonder he followed his master.

His master helped him from the stone altar he had been laying on and gave him a cloak, telling Fenris that they were to cover their nakedness in the presence of others. Fenris followed him obediently out of the cave, listening and absorbing the knowledge his master gifted him. His master knew so much.

Outside the cave, they went to a platform next to the sea where a large, wooden structure floated on the water.

_‘Boat,’_ Fenris’s mind told him. _‘That is a boat, it carries people on the water. And this is a dock, it is where boats are tied.’_

“We are returning home to Tevinter,” his master explained. “There, I am a magister, one of the people who runs the nation.”

Fenris marved at the words. His master really must be powerful, he ruled a nation! He must be lucky to be in service to his master.

There were other people on the boat as well, most likely they served Master Danarius as well. None of them had markings though, and his master paid little mind to most of them. It made Fenris feel something warm and fluttering in his chest that made his cheeks warm and his mouth want to… _‘smile.’_...

From there they left for Tevinter. The trip was long, but Fenris hadn’t counted the days as they passed. No, all his time was dedicated to his master. Listening and learning all that he was told. He was told how to act and speak, he was told who he was and his purpose in his master’s household. He was told how the world around him worked, and that his world revolved around his master.

He was told that when he didn’t listen and obey there would be punishment, as it was the only way he would learn. The first time he disobeyed was when his master had ordered him to return to his room below deck. He hadn’t wanted to go, he had wanted to enjoy the sunlight and fresh air.

His master hit him, and locked him in his room for the rest of the day. Fenris had whimpered and cried, but his master told him to stop. If he didn’t want to be punished then he shouldn’t disobey. After that Fenris tried his hardest to do as he was told. 

They arrived at Tevinter, in a city called Minrathous, a city his master called home. His master decided that Fenris would need to be retrained, to remember all that he had forgotten. At first Fenris wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do during the ‘training’ his master wanted him to do, but it didn’t take long for him to learn.

_Survive. Survive and fight back._

When he didn’t fight back, or he didn’t fight well enough, they would hit him, with blunted swords and fists and magic. When he did well, when he felled all the enemies that were thrown at him, his master would praise him. He would tell Fenris that he was doing well, that Fenris was truly his biggest success, even without all his memories.

When Fenris wasn’t training, he was with his master. He would accompany his master to parties and events and parlours, where he would stand guard to protect his master, and he would hear but never understand all the complex things his master would say with his guests. And he would do whatever his master asked of him; whether it was to show off his markings and skills, or allow himself to be examined and studied, or sometimes to let his master or the others touch him, admire the work his master had put into his creation.

*** 

*** 

* * *

The prince’s eyebrows furrowed sadly as he watched Fenris recount what he remembered. After telling him so much about Master Danarius, Fenris wondered if he should continue or if the prince didn’t care for all the small details. 

The prince shifted, sitting up straighter. “There was a woman as well, wasn’t there?” he asked gently. “An elf named Varania?” 

Fenris nodded. “Yes, I-” he paused, unsure if he was allowed to ask questions, but the prince nodded for him to continue so he did, hesitantly. “I saw Master Danarius be killed, but not Mistress Varania. I do not know where she went before you showed up.” 

He didn’t have the courage to outright ask the prince what happened to her, and there was no guarantee the prince even knew what happened. So Fenris simply said what he knew, hoping the prince would fill in the blanks. 

“Yes, she is… not dead,” the prince told him cautiously and cringed slightly when Fenris looked intrigued by the statement. “But she is not here and you do not need to worry. She has no power over you, and won’t seek to reclaim you.”

Fenris nodded, hanging his head. He did not entirely understand what was going on and it confused him. He wished that the prince would just stop talking about his past and his old master and would instead allow Fenris to serve him, but the prince didn’t seem to want Fenris as a slave, though he kept Fenris around anyway for some reason Fenris didn’t understand. If he didn’t need a slave then why not sell Fenris to someone who did? And why not just leave him with Mistress Varania? Unless of course Mistress Varania didn’t want him.

“Fenris,” the prince reclaimed his attention from his own thoughts, “do you mind telling me what you remember about Varania?” 

Fenris nodded. “Mistress Varania was Master Danarius' apprentice. He trained her and taught her his magic and she ran some of the household for Master Danarius too.”

The prince nodded along, holding his chin quizzically. “Do you know anything about this training? Since Varania was an elf she couldn’t have become a magister, so what was he training her for if not to be his successor?”

“I… I am afraid I do not know for certain since I am just a slave,” Fenris admitted. 

“Were,” the prince corrected. “You were a slave Fenris, but you aren’t anymore.” 

“Of course. I apologize.”

The prince sighed and forced a smile. “Is there anything else about her that you can tell me? Anything you remember from things she said to you or Danarius said to her?”

“Most of Mistress Varania and Master Danarius’ conversations were in private. But when she spoke to me she called me by the name ‘Leto.’ I don’t know what it means but I thought it was maybe an elven term. She… she didn’t talk to me much,” he admitted shyly. “She seemed to avoid it actually. But sometimes… sometimes she would start to tell me something and then stop, but I don’t know what it was because she never told me.” She would give him the same sad look that the prince gave him, but Fenris didn’t mention it aloud. 

Prince Vael nodded pensively, staring out the window. There was silence for a minute before the prince took a deep breath and sighed, tuning back to Fenris. 

“Fenris?” He asked calmly. “Do you know how to read?” 

Fenris shook his head. “No, slaves aren’t allowed to be literate.” 

“Well, you aren’t a slave anymore,” he responded with a small smile. “So would you like me to teach you?”

Was it a test, Fenris wondered. No… it couldn’t be, the prince was always telling Fenris that he wasn’t a slave so why would he start testing his loyalty. Fenris knew that the prince just didn’t understand that being a slave wasn’t something you could change, it was who you were, and Fenris as a slave might not be able to learn to read. But he did like spending time with Prince Vael and if he wanted Fenris to learn… 

“Yes,” Fenris agreed, “it would be an honor.” 

“Wonderful. How about you meet me here in the study around noon tomorrow? We can eat lunch and then begin the lesson?” 

And with that it was set.

* * *

Sebastian sighed deeply to himself once he was back alone in his own room. So Fenris truly knew nothing of Danarius’s magic. And he was unaware of how the world worked outside Danarius’ household. There was no new information. 

He was tempted to try and interrogate Varania about Fenris’s past, but Sebastian had no right to know before Fenris himself. 

At least Fenris had agreed to reading lessons, which would hopefully help. Sebastian made a note to go down to the library and pick up some simple books, and too get some extra parchment and quills. 


	9. Chapter 9

Sebastian knew he shouldn’t get his hopes up and he shouldn’t expect much, but it was so difficult not too. He knew Fenris and he knew what a smart, intuitive, and determined man he was, who could do anything he set his mind to. 

At least he was back in Kirkwall. 

Now, Fenris… struggled. Even after a week of lessons, he still had difficulty telling letters apart and remembering what sound each of them made. He was hesitant and always second guessing himself. Sebastian would bite his tongue, but it all felt so wrong. He didn’t want to be disappointed because he knew that Fenris had been through a lot and wasn’t the same man he used to know, but a part of him hoped so badly…

No. He couldn’t dwell on that. If Fenris sensed his disappointment he would think that he had done something wrong, when that wasn’t the case at all. It was Sebastian who was wrong, expecting too much of him and not being able to see the small victories. 

It would probably have been better if Sebastian hired a real tutor to teach Fenris, but he got so nervous when meeting new people, and Sebastian doubted that many language teachers would even agree to teach an elf, as pretentious as nobles could be. 

Perhaps Sebastian was coddling Fenris, but after seeing how Fenris withdrew himself when Sebastian tried to be more firm, he just wanted Fenris to be comfortable. 

_‘FEMTS’_

Sebastian looked at the paper and bit his lip. He liked to start their lessons by having Fenris write his name, but so far he had yet to get it right. He had difficulty remembering that the N and R were separate letters, and he also confused T, I, and J. Sebastian had started to introduce him to lowercase letters but took them away pretty quickly since they only confused Fenris more.

“You were really close this time,” Sebastian tried to reassure Fenris. “You got the right amount of lines on the F and E and you remembered which way the S faces. Now you need to remember that the M has two arches together like this-” Sebastian drew the letter on the parchment next to Fenris’s messy name,”and makes the ‘mmm’ sound, which isn’t in your name. So what letters should those be instead?” 

Fenris narrowed his eyes at the paper and softly started sounding out his own name. “Nr?” He said hesitantly, “but I don’t remember what letter makes that noise.”

“That’s because it’s two letters. ‘Nnn,’ and ‘rrrr’,” Sebastian gave him the sounds without the letters and hoped that Fenris would figure it out, but he just stared at the paper looking confused and helpless. 

“Do you want to see the alphabet sheet?” Sebastian offered and Fenris nodded.

He took out the parchment where he had written down all the letters as clearly as possible and let Fenris study it to find the ones that name the right sounds. 

“Is it... “ Fenris started to trail off, finger hovering over the letters, “N? And… R?” 

“Yes!” Sebastian brightened and Fenris gave himself a small smile. “Now the only other thing is this letter. Now sound comes after the R in your name?” 

“Fenr-i-s, ‘i’.” 

“And that letter is…?” 

Fenris chewed his bottom lip and looked at the reference. “I?” 

“Perfect! Now which one is I?” 

Fenris looked at the paper, then at Sebastian then back at the paper. “I-I don’t know.” he shook his head sadly. 

Sebastian put a hand on his shoulder to reassure him. “It’s ok, just give it your best guess. If you’re wrong then it’s ok.” 

Fenris looked almost frightened as he pointed at a random letter; H. Sebastian reached out and held Fenris’s hand, moving it over one letter so it pointed at the I. 

“Remember, T looks like a cross, J has a curve, I has a line of the top and bottom like a border, and an H looks like an I on it’s side.” 

“R-right.” 

Sebastian took the cheat sheet away and gave Fenris the quill again. “Let's do it one more time, ok?” 

The second time he got it right, which meant they could move on to the next part of the lesson- reading and sounding out words. They used children's books and they would go through each word like they went through Fenris’s name; sounding out and naming each letter and attempting to put it together and sometimes rewriting them. On a good day they would only get through one page, which was tiresome but at least meant they had plenty of reading material to go through. 

Writing was the worst part. Fenris’s handwriting was crooked and shaky. Sebastian was constantly rearranging Fenris’s grip on the quill because he was always trying to hold it like a sword. And he’d snap them too, on accident of course, but it still got ink everywhere. Fenris just wasn’t used to gripping something so delicate. 

Patience was a virtue afterall, and Sebastian was determined to be a good, patient friend. He would go through the same lesson every day if that’s what Fenris needed. He had devoted so many years of his life to service in the chantry, now he devoted himself to something else, someone else, Fenris. Fenris was a child of the maker, just like Andraste or Elthina or anyone else who had walked into that chantry, and Sebastian was determined to help him understand that. 

He would teach Fenris to read if it was the last thing he did, because once he could read then maybe he’d start to think of himself as more than a slave. That’s what Sebastian hoped for, that Fenris would start to pursue knowledge and form opinions. And maybe, maybe, he’d remember… 

_‘Or he wouldn’t! And that was okay too,’_ Sebastian told himself, even though he didn’t quite believe it. He wanted Fenris to be happy, but a selfish part of himself wanted his friend back even more. He wanted someone who wouldn’t treat him like a prince and he could talk openly to, without worrying about his duty or nobles or obligations. 

Maybe he was only teaching Fenris to further that selfish desire, but was it so wrong to want someone who would choose to spend time with you? Not someone you employed or ruled over, but someone who could do whatever they wanted, and they wanted to talk with you. Maybe it was wrong… maybe he was trying to force Fenris into that position. 

It would keep him up at night, wondering if he was doing the right thing. Elthina used to tell him that the desire to be selfless meant you were on the right path, because evil doesn’t second guess itself, but remembering only made his heart ache more. 

Elthina always had faith in him, always put him on the right track, but now she was gone. What if she was the only one who would ever have that faith in him? What if there was no one else in this world who would see his faults and decide that he still had potential? What if he fell again and no one was there to pick him back up? 

The grief and loneliness was a constant ache in Sebastian’s chest, but it was one he had gotten used to. He was a prince and he was Fenris’s teacher, and he couldn’t let himself burden his city or his friend. He would suffer in silence, pouring himself into his work so he wouldn’t have time to think or feel. 

* * *

Fenris stared at his food, poking it and occasionally taking a small bite and looking over at the window to see if much time had passed. He hoped that if he drew out their lunch for long enough that there would not be enough time for the lesson. It was selfish, and disrespectful towards the prince who had been so kind to him, but after two weeks, the prince still hadn’t given up despite Fenris’s obvious inability to learn. 

Literacy was a noble skill, not something for someone like Fenris. There was no use for it in battle or following orders. 

“Is everything alright Fenris? You’ve hardly touched your food.” The prince’s voice was kind and patient like it always was and it made Fenris feel bad for being such a terrible student. Why did he even waste his time on Fenris anyway?

Fenris bit his lip and stared at his plate, shaking his head silently. 

The prince wasn’t convinced. “Fenris please, you can tell me what’s wrong, I won’t be upset.” 

“I… I just…” Fenris stammered, “you are a prince and your time is valuable so… you really don’t need to waste it on something that will never pay off.” 

Prince Vael cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean? What will never pay off?” 

Fenris shut his mouth again, worried that he had upset or offended the prince, but he looked at Fenris expectantly and that meant he had to respond. 

“... I am a slave by nature,” he explained, hanging his head, “I fear your abilities are wasted on me.” 

The prince blinked, taken aback by the admission. “Fenris,” he said in a quiet voice. “You aren’t a slave anymore. And just because you once were a slave doesn’t mean you always will be. You are a person; just as capable as I am.”

“No, no,” he objected. “You are a prince and I-” 

“Being born into a royal family doesn’t make me inherently better than anyone, least of all you. And I’m a failure of a prince if I can’t even-” the prince stopped, biting his tongue. 

There was silence as Fenris waited for him to continue, explain what he was so worried about. Fenris knew that he had no right to know, but he just wanted to do anything that could help the prince who sat across from him, eyes closed and taking deep breaths. 

When the prince spoke again his voice trembled slightly and his eyes looked red in the corners. “You know, these lessons have been very frequent, how about we take today off? I could use some time outside of the castle, care to join me?” 

Fenris looked at him silently for a moment, trying to study and recognize the prince’s expression. What had he been thinking of that seemed to distress him? Fenris didn’t know, but he wanted to help. The prince was so kind but he always seemed sad and stressed. Fenris nodded, agreeing to go with the prince wherever he planned on going. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short break, but while editing this chapter there were certain parts I didn’t like and wanted to rewrite, but I ended up feeling burnt out and I kept putting it off. I’d like to say that it won’t happen again, but who knows. Stuff happens. That being said, I’ve done way too much work to leave this unfinished forever so if another pause happens then please remember that this isn’t abandoned and I’m probably feeling guilty about not updating.

Sebastian still wasn’t used to the life of royalty that he had returned to. The chantry had given him perspective and he had gotten so used to a simpler way of life. He had abstained from so much and gave everything he had to those who needed it more. To transition so suddenly back to being in a palace had been shocking, and it made him feel guilty because even after all that time worshipping the maker, he still craved the vices of materialism. 

Surely it was a sinful desire, that Sebastian craved long, warm bathes with sweet smelling soaps and flower petals in the water. It was wrong that he wished for expensive, foreign ingredients in the decadent meals that he longed to indulge in. It was shameful that a man who was once a chantry brother would still feel the grips of greed tightening around his neck when he saw a beautiful jewel or silken fabrics. 

As the Prince of Starkhaven, a man with everything, Sebastian shouldn’t wish to run away from it. Most people would kill for his position, and yet Sebastian sometimes felt as though he would kill to get out of it. His desire to flee from duty was the most sinful of all. 

Sebastian frowned at himself as he abandoned his regal armor in favor of a hooded cloak to hide his identity. He wanted to say that it was for Fenris’ sake, he was worried about Fenris being uncomfortable with people staring at him for being with the prince. But in reality he just wanted some time away from the palace and his life as prince. 

Before leaving his room, Sebastian grabbed his bow. It wasn’t that he was expecting a fight or anything, Starkhaven was nowhere near as dangerous as Kirkwall, but he wanted to be able protect himself. It was also a comforting item to him and not one he was able to carry around the palace. 

Fenris wore his armor and sword as well even though Sebastian hadn’t told him to. He worried that Fenris thought he was following Sebastian out as a guard rather than a friend so he made sure to mention that he didn’t want any guards with them and he could handle himself, though he wasn’t sure if the message got through. 

To attract less attention and avoid being recognized, Sebastian decided to leave the palace through a more discrete side entrance. He also avoided some of the main roads around the palace and kept his hood pulled forward to try and make sure that he wouldn’t be noticed. 

Sebastian wanted to say something, he wanted to talk to Fenris and give some eloquent speech. He wanted to know why Fenris still thought he was a slave when Sebastian had told him over and over again that he wasn’t. He wanted to say something that would help even in the slightest, but words evaded him. 

So lost in his thoughts, Sebastian didn’t even think about where he was going. His feet led his distracted mind down paths that Sebastian had followed so many times that the steps had become ingrained into his instincts. It wasn’t until the noise started to pick up that Sebastian was snapped back to the real word. Fenris was on his heels when Sebastian stopped, probably following Sebastian without even thinking, the way that Sebastian had led them. 

It was a busy market, with bustling crowds of people living their normal lives. The place was familiar, Sebastian had been to plenty of markets, most likely this exact one. But at the same time it had been so long since he had walked around like a normal person. Well, in reality he knew it couldn’t have been that long, he had only claimed his throne about a year ago, but that one year had felt like an endless eternity of exhaustion. 

It wasn’t surprising that Sebastian’s memory had led them there, he had once loved places such as this. Crowds to get lost in, pretty people to meet, trinkets to buy, alleys to slip away in, it was the perfect place to steal away from his father’s guards. 

Wandering the crowds and tables made Sebastian smile. Here he was unknown, he was free, and suddenly the days of buying things on a whim and haggling didn’t seem that far away. The days when he would meet new people just to hear their stories because he was so tired of the echo chamber that was conversation in the palace. The days when he would pretend that he wasn’t royalty and life was like a story book. When he was young and alive and life was easy with no responsibility. 

Everything had been so difficult that Sebastian had almost forgotten what it was like to enjoy himself. He felt a pang of guilt and longing for the life he never had, and the life he had now that he wished to run away from. 

Sebastian took his time taking it all in, he could smell something sweet and made with cinnamon that made his mouth start to water, and he eyed some pretty jewelry. He wondered if he should buy something for Fenris. Sebastian had given him gifts before, but Fenris still didn’t seem to believe in his own worth, so it was worth a shot. 

But what would Fenris prefer…? A necklace or a bracelet? Maybe a ring or a broach? Something simple but elegant, practical but lavish. Something with a marcher design, to remind him that he wasn’t in tevinter anymore. Maybe something with chantry significance. 

Sebastian continued to maneuver himself through the marketplace. A stall selling furs peaked his interest for a moment, since autumn was coming maybe Fenris would get cold and would require a nice fur coat. He hadn’t worn one in Kirkwall, so maybe he wouldn’t wear it now, but maybe he just didn’t have one back then. Perhaps he might prefer a cloak with pretty clasps, or a fancy belt with a matching buckle. 

Growing up as royalty in the palace, Sebastian had been taught that affection was defined by expensive gifts and status. He remembered going to bars and brothels and throwing around his father’s gold as if it could buy him more than just a drink or a whore, but a real happiness. It had taken years in the chantry for him to unlearn it all. Years to realize that love and affection and friendship weren’t defined by what you could give physically. They were built upon trust and respect and quality time and emotion. 

But being back in the palace and being exposed to that way of life once more, Sebastian felt the urge to prove his friendship for Fenris by showering him in luxuries. 

Sebastian glanced over his shoulder to ask Fenris on what he might wear. 

But Fenris wasn’t standing behind him as he was just a moment ago. 

Before panicking, Sebastian turned around completely, making sure that Fenris hadn’t just walked to his other side, but it didn’t help. Fenris still wasn’t there and the panic set in fast. 

What happened? Where did he go? Were they separated in the crowd? Had someone taken him? 

Fenris was next to him only a moment ago and he was hard to misplace with his lyrium tattoos and white hair. Sebastian looked around frantically, pushing through the crowd. 

“Excuse me,” he turned to some complete strangers, “have you seen an elf with white hair?” 

The people shook their heads and kept going. Sebastian kept asking anyone he walked past, because certainly someone must have seen where Fenris went. 

“Fenris!” he called out desperately, praying for his safety. “Fenris?” 

No response. Sebastian kept going. His blood was pumping and he was covered in cold sweat, terrified that something might have happened to Fenris while he wasn’t paying attention. 

He stood on his tiptoes, trying to see over people’s heads to spot Fenris. Every glimpse of white he saw made his heart race and then fall when he realized it wasn’t Fenris. 

How could he have gone so far so quickly? He didn’t… run away, did he? Sebastian’s ears were ringing as he thought about it. He knew he shouldn’t try to hold Fenris back if he wanted to leave, but Sebastian was so worried. What if something happened while he was alone? What if he was killed or captured? What if someone took advantage of him? 

No, Sebastian didn’t want to think about that. Fenris didn’t run away and he would find him soon. It was going to be alright. 

People pushed Sebastian around as much as he pushed them around to search for Fenris. Sebastian had never hated large crowds so much in his life, and he never thought people would be so harsh until he was pushed to the side so hard and aggressively it knocked him down into an alleyway entrance. 

But it wouldn’t stop him. Sebastian shot back up, readying himself to push back into the crowd before he instinctively looked around and his eyes locked onto something. Someone. 

“Fenris!” He cried out, running over to him. 

Hearing his voice, Fenris turned, looking scared and on the verge of tears. “Y-your highness!” 

Sebastian resisted the urge to take Fenris into his arms and hold him, instead putting a hand on his shoulder looking him up and down. “Are you alright?” He asked, his eyes coming back to meet Fenris’. “You didn’t get hurt, did you? I was so worried.” 

Fenris looked away shamefully. “I-I am alright. I am sorry for getting lost and worrying you…” 

“It’s not your fault,” Sebastian told him, just grateful that Fenris was alright. “It’s busy and there’s a large crowd and you don’t know the area. It’s my fault for letting us get separated.” 

“As… you say.” 

Sebastian sighed happily, glad he was able to find Fenris. He held out his hand for Fenris to take. “Here, hold my hand so we won’t be separated again, ok?” 

Fenris nodded and took his hand, gripping it tightly. Sebastian led them back towards the crowd and felt Fenris stiffen nervously. 

“It’s alright,” Sebastian assured him. “You won’t get lost this time I promise.” 

Fenris looked away, not looking as though he was comforted at all by Sebastian’s promise. 

“Fenris?” He asked calmly, “what’s going on?” 

Hunching his shoulders, Fenris shuddered. “I just… there’s…” 

It took a moment for Sebastian to understand that there was a meaning behind Fenris’s nervous mumblings. 

He was… overwhelmed? Afraid of large crowds? Afraid of being separated? Simply feeling shy and uneasy? Was he just not adjusted to the new environment?

Sebastian didn’t know, and he didn’t want to force Fenris to justify himself and his feelings when he didn’t want to. It might have been multiple reasons, or it might have been for a reason that was difficult to explain. 

No matter the reason, Fenris didn’t look comfortable, and Sebastian wanted to do whatever it took to make him happy. 

“It is a bit crowded,” Sebastian observed. He himself had never had much problem with crowded places, but he knew that some people did. Fenris had never said anything to him in Kirkwall, but there were plenty of things that Fenris never told him or anyone else. “Would you prefer to go somewhere else?” 

Fenris started to move as if to nod, but then froze, quickly correcting himself. “If you say so, your highness.” 

Sebastian couldn’t even begin to describe how horrible he felt after letting Fenris get lost, so he kept Fenris' hand in his own so they wouldn’t get separated again. They pushed through a few crowds until they finally broke free from the densely populated marketplace. They followed the granite road back to the heart of the city, staying in the palace district where things were quieter and the rich thrived. Sebastian was less familiar with all the places in the district, he had usually preferred the company of the common folk who were less judgemental and uptight. But despite the occupants, the palace district was beautiful. 

Fountains decorated the paved streets and the buildings were sights to behold as they stood proudly before the palace behind them. It was a bit gaudy, and perhaps intimidating to those who hadn’t grown up there. 

Without any crowds to hide in, Sebastian could feel the stares of people that passed them burning into him. But it wasn’t Sebastian who made them stop and stare, it was Fenris, the strange elf with curious markings who walked around with fine armor and a weapon. 

They sat for a short time on a bench, making some awkward small talk about the weather and the city. Sebastian did most of the talking, Fenris sat rigidly, hyper aware of their surroundings and no more comfortable than before. As much as Sebastian wished to help, Fenris didn’t seem to be in the right state to relax again, so it was probably best for them to head back to the palace. 

It felt as though there was nothing he could do right. No matter what he did there was a gap between them that he couldn’t seem to bridge, and everytime the bridge began to grow on one side it would destroy the progress that the other side had made. 

He was selfish, just as he was always doomed to be. And his selfishness would continue to hurt those around him, just as it always had. 

If he hadn’t been so caught up in himself, if he hadn’t spent all his time trying to distract himself then he would have noticed Fenris and how insecure he was feeling. If he hadn't gotten so distracted by the market and the people then he wouldn’t have lost Fenris in the crowd. If Sebastian hadn’t been so indecisive in Kirkwall then maybe he would have saved Fenris, maybe he could have saved Elthina. If he hadn’t been such a selfish child then maybe he could have saved his family. 

It was enough to make Sebastian wonder if Fenris would be better off without him. Even when he tried his hardest, his vices would still hurt those around him. Even when he prayed and prayed and prayed, he still couldn’t escape it. 

What he was doing wrong? Because there had to be something wrong, there had to be some reason that things were so difficult. It wasn’t as if Sebastian was asking for a vision of Andraste to appear before him, all he wanted was confirmation that he was doing the right thing. All he wanted was the words to help Fenris. 

He wondered what had happened. There once was a time when Sebastian could feel his heart lighten with joy as he recited chant, now he felt nothing. Had he done something wrong? Had the maker abandoned him?

* * *

The next few days they paused their lessons and Fenris watched as the prince stayed silent. 

When they met again, one week after they stopped lessons, the prince looked sad and defeated. There were bags under his eyes and his hair was not combed back as neatly as it usually was. There was something wrong and Fenris had noticed that with each passing day the prince began to look more and more tired. 

“I am sorry Fenris, but I am afraid that I do not know what to say.” 

Fenris looked at him, bewildered and guilty. He wasn’t sure what he had done wrong to exhaust the prince and it made him feel even worse that he couldn’t even identify his own shortcomings. 

When he didn’t respond the prince continued. “I have spent the last week praying and searching for an answer, but I have found nothing. I know that I have said this before, but all I can think to say is that you are a child of the maker, and… these things will get easier over time, though I cannot force you to continue if you don’t want to.”

He could, if the prince insisted then Fenris would do whatever he wanted, he would die if the prince requested it. Why didn’t the prince realize that? 

Fenris ignored it, if this is how the prince wished to do things, then Fenris would have to adjust himself to it. Still he was uncertain how to respond. He had been going to chantry services with the prince for a while, hearing the sisters and mothers of the southern chantry speak of Andraste and the maker. It was different from the imperial chantry, no one in tevinter would call a slave a ‘child of the maker.’ Even if the maker did create slaves, which Fenris theorized that he must have because he made everything, he did not create slaves as his children but as those who would serve his children. To compare someone to a slave was all but blasphemie. 

The prince shook his head again, his expression so downtrodden and sad. Was it all because Fenris had told him that slaves couldn’t learn to read? Would it have been better if Fenris had stayed quiet and allowed the prince to believe what he wanted? 

“If you believe that I can learn, then I would happily keep trying, your highness,” Fenris offered because he couldn’t think of anything that would make the prince happy. 

But the prince just sighed and shook his head. “I don’t want you to continue for my sake, I want _you_ to believe in yourself, Fenris.” he was earnest and genuine and his desperation was written in the way he pleaded Fenris with soft words and sad eyes. 

Fenris supposed that if it was requested of him, he would have to believe in himself. Only he wasn’t sure _how_. Would it be more than just telling the prince what he wanted to hear? What type of belief was it even supposed to be? 

So uncertain, always so uncertain, Fenris wanted only to make the prince happy. 

“I will believe in myself then, and I will work harder.” 

The prince looked away as if he was debating Fenris’ words. _Did he not believe it? Did Fenris not sound convincing enough?_

_There had to be something he could do._

_Something_

_**“My prince, I… I-“** _

Fenris spoke again, surprising both the prince and himself. He wasn’t even sure what he was saying anymore, he wasn’t sure of anything. 

“I do not know if a slave is capable of learning to read and write,” he said with his eyes trained on the floor. “Slaves such as myself are not made for such education. But… I know that there is much that I do not understand since I lost my memories…”

***

_“I am disappointed with you, my pet. This is basic training, but perhaps you have lost all of your usefulness along with your memories.”_

***

Master Danarius had been harsh and honest, the memory made Fenris want to cringe back on himself and retreat with his tail between his legs. He didn’t want to be punished or cast away, all Fenris wanted was to be useful and never fail his master. But he was so worried that he would. He was worried that the prince would continue their lessons, but Fenris would never learn anything. He worried that he would disappoint the prince. 

He had already failed so many times before, and now he was continuing to pay the price for losing his memories. Maybe he had once known the answer, maybe if he hadn’t failed back then he would be more useful to the prince now. 

It was terrifying, to be held to a standard he wasn’t sure he could reach. To be asked questions that he didn’t know how to respond to. The prince spoke with calm, gentle words and reassuring tones, yet Fenris found himself tense despite it. 

“If- if you, y-your highness, believe that these lessons are not wasted on me, then I am certain it must be true.” Fenris’ voice shook as he addressed the prince. _Was he being too bold? Was it not enough? Would the prince get angry at him?_

When Fenris looked up at the prince shyly, the prince smiled. His eyes looked red at the edges, like he was on the verge of tears, but he smiled through it. 

The prince looked at him and Fenris held eye contact hesitantly. It didn’t feel right to look the prince in the eyes, especially when his eyes were so hypnotically blue and bright. But the prince spoke to him and for a moment Fenris forgot all about his training and why it was wrong to stare at your superior. 

“If my confidence is enough to inspire you to continue,” the prince told him, “then I am glad to be here to help. I am glad th-... I am glad.” 

There was a pit in Fenris’ stomach that was so deep it threatened to pull him in. A pit filled without doubt and uncertainty and fear that he would only live to disappoint and fail. But despite it, Fenris reached out to the prince. He knew that he would accept from the moment the prince came to him, because what reason would he have to decline. The prince always knew what was best for him.


	11. Chapter 11

Fenris walked next to the prince now, not behind him. The prince asked him to and Fenris couldn’t say no. It was a day without lessons or any other special activity, so they walked peacefully through the courtyard and Fenris listened when the prince made small talk. 

The prince had continued to try and teach Fenris to read and write, but he was less rigorous than before. He decided that sometimes they wouldn’t have lessons, sometimes they would spar or do something else. It was probably so the prince wouldn’t grow frustrated with Fenris everytime he struggled, which was far too often. Fenris tried, he really did, because he would do anything to make the prince happy, even if it was something impossible. 

When Fenris was alone he would look at picture books and try to match the words on the page with the image that he saw. Sometimes he would try to draw things that he had seen and label them with the correct words, or what he thought were the correct words. 

There was one paper he kept hidden, one where he tried to write to write the prince’s name. _“Prince Sebastian Vael,”_ even the words themselves looked regal. It was one of the few things that Fenris knew was correct; it was etched on a plaque underneath the prince’s portrait and Fenris had copied it down after resuming his lessons with the prince. If there was one thing that Fenris wanted to be able to recognize, it was the prince’s name. 

“What would you like to do today?” The prince asked, and he smiled at Fenris, but Fenris looked away and avoided eye contact. Even though he wanted to act as natural as the prince did, Fenris was always too stiff and rigid around him. Looking one’s superior in the eyes was wrong, not unless directly asked, so Fenris avoided it whenever possible, even though others looked at the prince so casually. 

“I shall do whatever you would like,” Fenris replied. 

The prince frowned. “Why don’t you pick. I have plenty of free time so we can do whatever you desire.” 

It was a test. It had to be. Why was the prince so insistent on hearing his opinion? He was just a slave, all he wanted to do was please his master. 

“We could do some reading, or play a game, or spar, or take a walk around the city, maybe even stop to get a drink. Or I could take you to the stables and we could do some riding if you like. Anything you want,” Sebastian offered. 

Fenris looked down and felt his speed decrease. _Why did it matter?_ He didn’t want to do anything but make the prince happy! But if the prince wanted him to make a decision then he must. So why was it so _hard?_

“Fenris? Are you alright?” He heard the prince ask and Fenris nodded but didn’t speak. They had both stopped now and Fenris’s gaze was fixed on the ground. 

There was just… _so much_. How could he choose? He wasn’t supposed to choose, he was a slave. They didn’t choose! Choices were made for him because he couldn’t make his own decisions. He just couldn’t! But he would do anything to please his master, it is what he was meant to do. And if this is what his master wanted him to choose then he must! 

But there were so many options… what were they again? He couldn’t remember and he couldn’t ask the prince to repeat himself or he may think Fenris wasn’t listening. 

Suddenly Fenris became too aware of his own breathing, and how the sound echoed in his ears as each breath felt like it shook him to core. Wracking his brain, Fenris tried to remember what the prince had said, but he couldn’t find anything. Maybe he hadn’t been paying attention and- _oh no-_ was the prince still talking? Had Fenris been ignoring him again? 

Fenris felt very dizzy and everything around him was blurry and he couldn’t focus on anything besides the pounding in his head telling him he was failing. He had messed up. He was told to do something and he couldn’t and now everything was ruined and his master would dispose of him. 

Useless. _Useless_. _**Useless!**_

His legs felt shaky and there were firm hands on his shoulders. Short, shallow breaths were all he could manage but they only made him feel worse. He could feel his knees start to buckle, but he didn’t fall. Someone was there who lowered him to the ground where they both sat. 

Somewhere inside himself Fenris knew the other person must be the prince, but he couldn’t seem to see or hear anything. His stomach was tight and there was a lump in his throat that made it so hard to breath. 

He heard words but didn’t understand them. They sounded soft and comforting and came in a lilted voice. When an arm reached around to hold him, Fenris let out the first choked sob. Then he couldn’t stop. 

It was too much and it was all suddenly _there_ in the forefront of his mind. Every time he failed. Every insecurity. How he had failed Master Danarius by getting injured in Kirkwall and losing his memory. All the little mistakes he had been punished for when he was learning how to serve his master again. Letting Master Danarius die… and now being here, with his new master, and not knowing how to serve him. 

He didn’t know anything! He kept misunderstanding and doing things wrong and he was waiting to be punished for it, waiting for the prince to hit him or send him away, or do something, but he never did and that only made it worse. How would he know when he had gone too far, when he would finally make his last mistake and the prince would finally punish him, punish him for everything he’d done, every mistake that he’d made. Fenris knew it was coming, he knew that when it came he would deserve it, but having it all at once seemed so much worse. The waiting was so much worse. 

It was so much and he clutched at the person holding him and buried his sobbing face in their shoulder. He was probably covering the nice fabric with tears and snot and that was just one more failure to cry over. 

The world raced around him and Fenris just wanted it to stop, just for a moment so he could try and catch up. He wanted to take a break from his own mind because he couldn’t even understand his own thoughts anymore. How was he supposed to serve the prince when he couldn’t even control himself? How was he supposed to do anything when he was such a useless failure? 

His head was throbbing and he could feel it spread down his markings, burning him from the inside. Images flashed through his mind. And he felt his body wince in pain as his head pounded.

***

_The whip cracked, slicing the skin on his back, leaving blood that ran down his skin and made the floor beneath him slick, but he couldn’t fall; not with his wrists chained to the wall, holding him up._

_A knife was carving into his skin and he held back screams, knowing that it would only make his master angry as he cut patterns into his skin, using his lyrium infused blood to show off his power._

_A blunt club came down, hitting him again and again as he tried to find his footing and grab his sword but couldn’t as he felt his bones crack under the bludgeoning that wouldn’t let up._

_He was in an arena with a qunari, the large horned man was brought in chains, yet even still he tried to fight his captures. The qunari was released and the people in the stands watched with morbid fascination as they fought, but it ended the same way it always did. He survived and the other died. He used his markings to rip a still beating heart out of another man’s chest._

_A young boy was strapped to a table, begging for mercy until his tongue was cut out and he was bled to fuel magic._

_There was a parlour with several men in robes and Fenris was resting his head on his master’s lap before being instructed to show himself to one of the others who was curious and educated and spoke with long, Tevene words that Fenris could barely understand. The man touched him, poked and prodded and hurt him and Fenris missed his master, he longed for his master, but he had to do as commanded or his master would give him away._

_A woman, a human woman in robes smiled at him sadistically, her cold blue eyes rife with laughter as he froze him and burned him and tested her spells and how their power would increase as she bled one of the others. Because he could withstand it, and if he couldn’t then he was too weak to serve his master._

_Alone in a forest, abandoned and so, so alone; injured and alone and half dead with no master and no hope._

_There were corpses on the ground, his master behind him, blood on his hands, and a camp with familiar tents and trees and fire pits and the overwhelming sense of dread as he looked at cold, empty faces and wanted to vomit as he realized what he had done._

_Alone once more. Betrayed and feeling small and hopeless as he hung his head, refusing to look up at the reality that surrounded him. The reality that this was all he was worth. This was all he was good for._

_***_

His head throbbed and he held it, pressing his hands over his ears to try and block the pain out, squeezing his eyes shut to block out the images. It was all him, it was all familiar, but some of it had never happened. He didn’t remember it and when he tried to think about it, it just _hurt._

He was gasping for air, drowning in his own mind and his sobbing. Everything was wrong and tainted. _He_ was wrong. _He_ was tainted. He had been sullied and could never be clean again. He was broken. 

The lyrium in his skin burned in a way that only his Master Danarius had been able to do, and he curled in on himself, shaking his head as he wondered how and why this was all happening. He had betrayed Master Danarius, he had followed his new master here to this foreign city and had grown too comfortable so now Master Danarius was back. He would drag Fenris back to Minrathous with him, he would make Fenris walk until his feet were bleeding and the punishment would end only in death, as it did for all slaves who failed their masters. 

He would be punished for following another, for forgetting who he really belonged to. And he would never see his new master again because his new master would see how useless Fenris was and wouldn’t want him back. His markings were created by Master Danarius and were useless to anyone else, he was useless to anyone besides Master Danarius. 

Burning and aching and dirty, Fenris wanted to be left alone in the dark to rot. He wished for death to take him and end it all, he wished for his master to grant him at least that mercy.

But Fenris had nothing to deserve any mercy, so he was forced to live and suffer the shame that he wished to escape. 

His breath was heavy and labored and his throat was sore and dry, Fenris felt reality start to sink in, and a new horrible embarrassment began to fill his mind. 

When the ringing in his ears began to stop, the first thing he heard was the prince’s voice, quiet and comforting, telling him it was ok, he was ok. Fenris took a breath. He smelled like lavender and pine and something warm that Fenris couldn’t identify. Fenris was sitting close enough that the prince held him and rubbed soothing circles into his shoulder. 

Fenris started to relax. 

Thinking about things made Fenris’s eyes sting, so he ignored it. Let his mind go blank. He was here. He was with his master. That’s all that mattered. 

Together they sat quietly in the grass. 

The prince broke the silence in a calm, measured voice. “Are you feeling better Fenris?” 

Fenris nodded against the prince’s shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” Fenris heard him apologize, “I pushed too hard. Do you want to go back to your room and get some rest?” 

Fenris nodded again. 

“Let’s go then.” 

The prince stood up and held Fenris’s hand, pulling him with him. Even after they were both standing, the prince held his hand, keeping Fenris close to him as they walked. 

He was probably just worried that Fenris would overwhelm himself and collapse again, but Fenris could hardly hear such thoughts over the pounding in his head. 

They walked quietly back to Fenris’s room, where the prince stood warily at the door. 

“Would you prefer to be left alone for right now?” He asked in a quiet, gentle voice. 

Fenris hesitated. In truth, he didn’t want to be alone. Being alone was the last thing he wanted. He wanted to be with the prince and be told that everything was alright. That the prince was still happy with him and he wasn’t going to leave. 

But would it be alright to request the prince’s time like that? Fenris didn’t want to fail him yet again by asking too much. 

“I wouldn’t want to keep you,” Fenris resigned, hanging his head slightly. 

The prince smiled at him kindly. “It's alright, I was planning to spend the afternoon with you anyway.” 

“Then… your company would be appreciated.” Fenris tried to sound as respectful and put together as possible when he had been breaking down crying only moments earlier. 

The prince smiled gently and followed into his room, taking a seat next to him. 

For a while they sat in silence. At one point the prince raised his hand, perhaps in an effort to comfort Fenris, but he must have changed his mind, as he let his hand fall. 

Fenris wasn’t sure what to say. He longed for the prince to reach out to him, but he wasn’t sure how to say. If he could say it. 

He just wanted to be held. To be told that things would be alright. To feel as though he was on the right path because he struggled so much. 

Was it asking too much? It probably was. The prince was always eager to show approval, telling Fenris how skilled he was and how much he had grown, but it only made Fenris crave more. More approval, more praise. 

Selfish desires. 

Master Danarius always made Fenris work for praise or any sort of comfort. If he wanted to eat then it must be from his master's hand, and if he refused then he would be hit by the very same hand. But now that he was draped in luxuries and affection, it felt like it was too much. 

Fenris wanted less, he wanted to know he deserved such praise, he wanted to know what he did that pleased the prince so he could know not to stop. He wanted to feel as though his praise came from action. 

But he also wanted more. He wanted to have the prince pet his head and shower him in kind words. 

It was a never ending battle in his mind. The desire to be rewarded and the desire to work for rewards. At some point Fenris wasn’t sure if he lost track of himself, he was living as a stranger, a stranger who thought himself worthy to accept his master’s company and praise. 

“Would you like to talk?” The prince asked, his voice like velvet, already smoothing some of the worry in Fenris’s mind. 

And he would, Fenris would love to talk. But his troubles were insignificant when compared to that of royalty. He was simply a slave who was unable to settle into the great life he had been given. So he shook his head and let the room fall silent. 

There was something else too, something about the prince and his presence that made Fenris’ head ache again, like it had before when he had seen things he didn’t remember, but he couldn’t see anything in the prince. His head hurt but he didn’t know why and he just couldn’t figure it out. 

“... Are you… alright?” The prince spoke up, concerned but hesitant. He probably had things to do but didn’t want to be impolite by leaving too early, so Fenris nodded. 

“Thank you for your company, my prince. But I’ll be fine on my own.” 

The prince nodded along, though his eyes seemed distant. “Good. That's good. I’ll see you later then.” 

His departure was unusually awkward and Fenris had no doubt that it was all his fault for making the prince worry so much. When the prince said his final goodbye and shut the door behind himself, Fenris buried his face into a pillow and groaned. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this! Fenris was supposed to be a bodyguard, he was supposed to protect and serve. He wasn’t supposed to break down crying for stupid reasons. He wasn’t supposed to burden the prince. 

Fenris had never been one for wishful thinking, he had duties to perform and he couldn’t afford to distract himself with idle fantasies. It wasn’t in his nature to wish for more than he could achieve, to wish for anything that wouldn’t please his master. 

But for a moment… Fenris wished that he was someone else. He wished that he was someone _normal_. 


End file.
